Chapter 12

L illian paused in the entry of the modern art exhibit, sudden fear at the sight of John’s retreating back gripping her.

When he’d asked if she would be all right on her own while he looked up an old friend and curator of the Chicago art museum, she hadn’t anticipated this crushing alarm.

She wrung her hands and rocked a little on her high heels . You’re being stupid, Lillian. You’ve wanted to be alone since Oahu.

She forced her hands to unclench and moved forward. The space bustled with a tour of Boy Scouts and couples vacationing and elderly ladies.

Lillian stopped before a large canvas and forgot her nervousness. She stared at the shapes and colors until her eyes blurred, allowing the piece to sink into her. But no art spoke to her like Nathan’s sculpture. She shifted her handbag beneath her arm, feeling the weight of the rose.

“Hello.”

She looked up into a pair of warm brown eyes, gold-flecked and similar to Robert Albright’s. Heat blossomed in her chest.

She smiled. “Hi.”

“Interesting choice of media isn’t it?” he asked.

Lillian tilted her head to study what appeared to be a slice of deli ham affixed to the bottom right corner of the piece, sure. “Is that?—?”

“I don’t think so,” he answered with a smile. “Looks like it, though.” They stood silently contemplating whether someone had glued his lunch to a canvas. Suddenly, he turned to her. “I’m Will. Will Cochran.”

She extended a hand. He clasped her hand in gentle fingers and surprised her by raising it to his lips. “I’m Lillian.”

One auburn eyebrow elevated. “Just Lillian?” He boldly grabbed her left hand, checking for a ring. “Okay, Just Lillian. Shall we move on to the next piece?”

Together they drifted to the next artwork. He stood very close to her, but she wasn’t uncomfortable. For the first time since John had walked away, she felt her tension ebb.

She studied Will from the corner of her eye. He was mid-height, lean and wiry, but with the broader shoulders of a professional athlete. Auburn hair flopped into his liquid eyes. He stood slouching with hands jammed into the front of his ragged jeans.

“Are you an artist?” Her boldness shocked her a little. She rarely spoke with strangers.

He grinned again. “No. But I know many artists.” He seemed to understand what she meant and shrugged. “I guess they wore off on me.”

“What kind of artists do you know?”

“All kinds—mostly painters in New York. I’m from Vermont, so it’s nothing for me to shoot down to the city for an opening. I also know one sculptor.”

Lillian’s eyes flew to his. “I recently acquired a small sculpture in San Luis Obispo,” she heard herself say, unclipping her handbag. She reached inside and retrieved the rose sculpture.

“Ah.” It was a soft groan. He rocked back on his heels. “That’s Nathan’s.”

The stone pulsed on her palm. “N…Nathan’s?”

Will’s hand lashed out to steady her when she swayed, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. Gripping her by the upper arm, he led her a short distance away to a stone bench.

His footfalls wiped clean the slate of her mind. A group of Boy Scouts moved into the area, and their voices were high and biting.

Where was John?

As she sat, her breath came in little squeaking gasps and knew she was really losing it. She leaned forward, dizzily dipping her head into her hands. Blackness was moving toward her in a great cloud like a swarm of locusts on a crop.

Will gently rested a hand on her spine, and she flinched as the electrical shock ripped through her. He jerked back.

“An immortal,” she heard him murmur and laughed low in her throat. Seventy years of never crossing the path of another immortal, and now Lillian knew two in the span of a week.

“I felt that, Lillian,” he whispered. “That shock we both felt— that’s what happens when another immortal touches your immortal tattoo.”

She laughed with true mirth. “I know, Will Cochran.”

He studied her a long time as if judging her sanity. “Have you ever met another immortal before?”

“Yes.” She clasped his hand and thrust the rose into it. “What do you know about this?” She willed him to spill all he knew of Nathan, and fast.

Her pores were slowly opening like buds to the sun. John was coming for her.

Will shook himself at her subject change. “Nathan Halbrook is the sculptor.”

“And you know him?”

He examined her closely. “Yes, Lillian. He’s the sculptor friend of mine. He lives in Vermont, not far from me. We have mutual friends.” Abruptly, he stood and dragged her in his wake, his voice insistent at her ear. “What’s going on? I’ve never run across another immortal in my wanderings.”

“Maybe it’s destiny.”

“What link do you have to Nathan?” His tone was even more urgent.

She was shaking her head, but Will stopped her. “Don’t give me that. I see his mark on you.”

His words fell like knives, pointed and cutting, dropping one at a time.

I see his mark on you.

The blood rushed in her ears again. Will shook her by the shoulders. “Lillian. God, you look as though you’re about to faint, but that’s impossible. You need to answer me. Are you Nathan’s?”

She wrenched from his hold and stumbled away, extending a hand to hold him off. “Will, I can’t do this now. He’s coming.”

He shook his head. He reached for her.

“I can’t talk!”

And then John was there, encircling her waist with an arm. “Have you been enjoying yourself?”

She managed a weak reply and allowed John to sweep her off to another room of the museum. The canvases blurred past her vision.

She saw only the points of Will Cochran’s words. I see his mark on you.

She threw a desperate glance over her shoulder to where Will stood frozen. As she rounded the corner, she saw him whip out a cell phone.

Oh, my God. Oh no. Oh no. Oh God.

Her heart tripped and fluttered crazily. Will was making a call to Nathan. She knew it. As John towed her along, she prayed for something—anything—to distract him and allow her to return to that modern art exhibit.

“Ah,” he said suddenly. “Lily, there is that gallery owner we met last visit. Do you remember?”

She nodded, knees weak, heart hammering. “Do you mind if I?—”

She flapped him away with a wobbly smile, then spun and nearly sprinted back to Will, who was pocketing his phone with a stunned expression.

He grabbed her up again, pacing her off. “Who was that man with you?”

“John.”

“Your mate?”

“Yes.”

“But how—” He broke off and looked over his shoulder. “Will he follow you?”

“No. He met an old friend. What is going on?” She plastered her hands to her face.

He stopped before the ham art. His big, gentle hands covered hers. “I have no idea. I was about to ask you.” He removed her hands and gazed deeply into her.

It made her skin crawl, a toxic itch.

“Yes,” he said quietly at last. “It is there.”

“What is there?”

“His mark. Nathan’s mark is clearly on you—the beginnings of it. Do you know Nathan?”

She began to deny it, to say she’d never set eyes on him, but that wasn’t exactly true. “I only know his name and his sculpture.”

“Do you see him? Visions?”

She nodded miserably.

“And you can hear him?”

Another nod. She didn’t understand why she felt compelled to confide this to a stranger, but somehow knew Will could help her understand.

“You spoke with him,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Yes. He’s elated. He’s coming.”

“Here?” Panic fluttered in her chest.

He nodded. “Coming for you.”

The space became a great vacuum, sucking all breath from Lillian. Her lungs hardened and the fragile sacs deflated as a cancer of understanding grew in her breast. Her mind swam with images of Nathan at a ticket counter. Brief flash of wristwatch, leather, exchanged paper. His chest burned too, but with frustration.

“Lillian?” Will’s voice reached her from a distance. “What about this man you’re with? What is he to you? Is he really your mate?”

The scope of her vision clamped shut and blackness fell. Will Cochran’s arms caught her, and a great roar of rage sounded. It vibrated her organs.

“Get your hands off my wife!”

“Sorry, man, she’s just fainted.”

John’s arms came around her, crushing her to his chest. He strode away with her, calling her name.

By degrees, the full sound returned to her ears. The autumn air was cool on her cheeks, entered her nostrils and parted lips. John held her too tightly.

If I open my eyes, I’ll see Will Cochran and his damned cell phone .

John spoke senseless words to her. “My love, you’re safe and I’m here and I’ll help you.”

“What the hell do you want?” John snapped.

Lillian opened her eyes to see his black expression.

“To make sure everything is okay. She doesn’t need an ambulance?” Will knew damn well she didn’t. He was not letting her out of his sight.

“We’re fine. She’s fine.”

Lillian attempted to disentangle herself from John’s hold and he suddenly noticed she had roused. “Lillian, my God. What happened? Was it something you remembered from your past?”

She shook her head, but she was so tired and weak, it flopped back on her neck. She stared at the azure sky. “Yes.” From a distance she could nearly hear the hum of Nathan’s voice, low on Will’s cell phone.

She was revolving like a moon to its planet. She was lying to her mate of almost seventy years. And Nathan’s mark was on her.

* * *

Nathan rushed through a tunnel of vision, sped along like a streaking bullet to emerge in a dim space, where his woman lay sleeping. A curl had fallen into her eyes. Her fingers were flexed inward, the palm pink and vulnerable. At the hollow of her throat, her skin pulsed with each beat of her heart. And lower still, a lavender bra strap slipped from one bare shoulder.

He wanted to take that strap between his teeth, slide it down and taste her. But suddenly, her mouth formed his name, sounding as a quiet moan, and all thoughts flew from his mind.

He gripped the arms of the seat of the airport.

His cell phone shrilled and he leaped. The image dissolved. “Will?” he said with surprise when he saw the caller.

Will and Nathan rarely spoke by phone—they preferred one another’s company when Nathan visited Dante and Maria. Will Cochran was the fourth immortal in their quartet.

“Greetings, Nathan,” he said exuberantly in the manner of Dante. “I have something you’ll be interested to hear.”

Expecting this to be about art, Nathan waited. Will was forever trying to coax Nathan into society and onto the current art scene. When he didn’t respond, Will continued.

“I’m in Chicago at the art museum. I’ve found someone you’ve been looking for.”

His heart thundered. “Chicago?”

“Yes. By coincidence, I’ve run into Lillian. Fascinating the way fate works at times.” His voice oozing amusement.

“Tell me.”

Will began talking, his words gaining speed until they tripped over each other. He’d spotted Lillian in the modern art exhibit and they exchanged names and a few words about the art. She asked about Will’s artist friends, and then she reached into her handbag and delivered the rose into the light.

Just brought it from her bag.

But When Will told her it was Nathan’s work, she grew so upset that he had to seat her on a bench. And then the most extraordinary thing happened. He placed a hand on her spine?—

“The immortal tattoo,” Nathan breathed. All at once, a Vision captured him, and he was tumbling into the feather mattress with his mouth on that inky vine.

When he came back to the conversation, he was frothing that Will had touched it and he had not.

Will continued. He had demanded to know her connection to Nathan, and she began to deny it. But Will put a stop to it.

“Nathan. She has your mark on her. I saw it on her soul.”

Nathan’s heart pulsed heavily beneath his rib cage. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. And then exploded with joy.

He grabbed the chair arms to steady himself. He’d known it. Of course he had. But to hear it from another immortal that Lillian bore his mark...

“I’ve gotta go,” he croaked into the phone. He wandered away from the seating area, stunned. Lovestruck. He stumbled against the wall, where he pressed his forehead to the cool glass and allowed himself to be drowned in Visions.

When the cell phone rang for a second time, it flashed to Nathan’s ear without pause.

“Nathan. She’s going. He’s taking her away.” Panic burned in Will’s voice.

“Where? Can you follow them? Can you shadow them?”

“I don’t know. He got pretty upset when I touched her. I know he’d recognize me if I followed.”

“You…touched her?” Nathan’s flat tone came from far away. Of course. He’d touched her tattoo. But Nathan was so out of his head, he could only think of her.

He could almost hear Will’s mental eye roll. “Of course, Nate. She fainted.”

“Fainted?” A searing knife twisted in his chest, and he bent in half, breathing heavily for a full minute.

No immortal fainted. Fainting was a mortal frailty.

Talk faster, Will, so I can call Dante.

“Will, please. I’m begging you to stay with her. Make sure he’s not going to hurt her if he finds out about our Calling.”

“He’s not going to hurt her, Nate. He—” Will struggled as if he shouldn’t continue.

“What?” Nathan barked.

“He’s in her, too, Nate.” His words gushed out. “Not the same way, but when I looked deeply, he was there.”

Nathan ceased to breathe. He’s in her too, Nate. He’s in her too. Emotion rose up in him, hot and ugly. “Just keep her safe until I can reach her.” He ended the call.

With shaking fingers, he punched Dante’s number. The instant his friend answered, Nathan spilled the entire story, voice growing in volume until several people in the vicinity skittered away.

“Why is she fainting?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and struggled to hear any words except the ones Will had imparted about John LeClair’s mark on Lillian.

“I can’t say for certain, Nate, without seeing her,” Dante said. “The two immortals marking her soul must be causing a physiological uproar. But I don’t know . Find her, Nate, with all haste, and bring her to me. I need to see her.”

Yeah, so do I. He scrubbed a hand over his face. With half an ear, he caught the announcement for his plane to board.

Shouldering his bags and sprinting toward the gate, his mind whirred with the day’s revelations. His need to find her was never so great. As he edged down the airplane aisle to his seat, resolve filled him.

He was going to Call to her.

* * *

“Graceland Cemetery,” John told the taxi driver over Lillian’s head. She rested against his chest, drawing his familiar scent into her lungs. His hand traveled the length of her spine again and again, raising the flesh there. The electric shock simultaneously calmed her and stimulated her lust.

She placed her lips against his throat. His beard raked her face, and she pressed her cheek against his, wanting to feel it cut her. Her fingers worked over the front of his body—the lines of his immortal tattoos, sculpted chest, carved abs, to his waistband.

Having reached his limit of attentions he could receive in the back of a Chicago cab, John’s hand closed over hers, breathing hard. He turned his mouth into her ear. “Lily, you’re killing me. I want you desperately.”

“Please.” She had never begged before, not even the night in the car, and she knew it would be his undoing. His gaze held hers, black and fogged with passion. She saw his mouth move when he issued new directions to the driver, but didn’t hear the words.

In minutes they were in the hotel lobby. Lillian clung to him, pressing her breasts against his hard body. Uncaring of their surroundings, John swept an arm beneath her knees and tilted her weight against his chest. He shot past the elevators and took the stairs with gusto. He navigated the turns without a falter. And all the while, he never released her gaze.

Inside their room, he trapped her against the wall, kissing her until she gasped. In one swift motion he yanked her sweater over her head and spun her so her tattoo faced him. She quivered as he nuzzled the length of her spine and then back up.

“Lillian, what has gotten into you?” he murmured at the knob of her neck. “You’ve been merciless. Maybe we should go on vacation more often.”

She shook her head, panting. “I want to go home, John. After this, let’s go home.”

He unzipped her skirt and let it drop. His hands kneaded her hip bones in a way that drove her wild. When he turned her to face him, she ripped at the cotton of his shirt, exposing his chest, letting her palms glide into the opening and into the sleeves of his shirts. His tattoos shocked her, but it wasn’t enough. She dropped her mouth, tonguing the dark Celtic knots. The flavor of his passion rose through them.

He cupped her jaw and kissed her, tongue plunging into the soft opening of her mouth. When he pulled away, his eyes were wild. Holding her gaze, he walked her slowly to the bed.

“Lillian, your gaze is a storm. Let me calm you.” His words trickled into her, spreading warmth through her belly and down her thighs. She barely had time to register them, and he was with her, his hips sinking against hers, long, thick cock parting her pubic lips and filling her, mouth swallowing her sounds. Her knot of need tightened as he stroked her deepest core.

Lillian.

With a jerk at her soul like a great shepherd’s hook, Nathan Called to her.

She convulsed with the pain of it.

She bucked beneath John and he mistook it for passion. Two men mingled in her soul, and she felt sickened, tainted and anguished.

She slammed the door to Nathan, but not before he got a glimpse into her. John thrust once, twice, slamming into her pussy, and then he stiffened and poured his hot cum into her.

He collapsed forward. She lay frozen, remorse eating her soul.

What have I done? What will I do?

John delivered nibbling kisses beneath her jaw. “I love you.”

She laced her fingers into his hair. “What I said about going home, I’m serious.”

“I know.” He tasted her lower lip. “We’ll get a flight tomorrow. We’ll make a stop at home before heading on to Salem.”

She nodded, fighting her tears. She hoped it would be enough to go home, that Nathan would stop following her.

John rolled off her and she watched him prowl about the room, gathering their scattered clothes and dressing. He leaned over Lillian and pressed a kiss between her brows. “Are you too tired to meet the gallery owner I ran into at the museum?”

“Yes. Go without me.”

Let me die .

He hesitated, and then brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “I’ll come back for you at dinnertime and we’ll go to Graceland together.” He pressed gentle kisses to the crest of each cheek before capturing her mouth.

The tears she withheld made her mouth salty, and his was sweet in comparison.

He withdrew from her arms, crossed the room on soft feet and closed the door.

Lillian was alone. Not even Nathan inhabited her soul, and who blamed him?

She began to cry, really sob. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and into her temples to wet her hair. Her chest jerked with her attempts to silence her wails. After her encounter with Will Cochran earlier, and the sudden bomb drop that Nathan’s mark was on her soul, she had wanted an escape with John, but at what price?

She flopped onto her stomach and spent a desolate hour, wishing she could escape her problems, return to her comfortable Virginia home and her beautiful gardens. She climbed dizzily from the bed and stumbled around the room, putting herself in order.

She was about to untangle her messy braid when a rap at the door made her cry out.

She lurched forward and shoved her eye against the peephole. She fell back with her hands at her throat, gasping for breath.

Flinging open the door, she said, “What are you doing here?” And yanked Will Cochran inside.

His eyes popped. The door clicked behind him and he took in Lillian’s swollen eyes and dripping nose. “What’s happened?” She made a slashing motion. “What are you doing here?”

“Did he hurt you?”

She gave him a look that she hoped reflected her pure self loathing.”I think you should ask which one I hurt.”

He exhaled heavily, stepped forward and drew her hand into his. “Lillian, I’m here because I can help you.”

She was shaking her head, mangled hair flying about her face.

“No. No one can help me.”

“I can. I will. I want to. Come sit down.”

“No.”

“Okay. Tell me what’s happening.”

“You’re the one with the x-ray eyes, Will. You tell me.”

He smiled a sad, crooked smile. “Does this man you’re with?—”

“John.”

“Does he know about Nathan?”

She shook her head frantically.

“Okay. That’s good. I’ve spoken with Nathan, and he wants you to stay put. Wait for him.”

She blinked at him. He looked normal. Sane. “Are you fucking nuts?”

He started to laugh, but at her murderous expression, silenced it.

“Will, I can’t just go off with Nathan, whoever he is. I don’t know him. I don’t want him in my life!” As she yelled this last, she broke, knowing it a severe blasphemy. She fell to the bedside in fresh sobs.

Will sat beside her, stroking the back of her hand, her shoulder, wiping the damp hair from her eyes, and whispering. When she had finally quieted to the occasional hiccup, he said, “You didn’t mean that.”

“No.”

“And you do know him, Lillian. Look closely and you’ll know the truth.”

“But Will, I’ve been with John for over sixty years. I can’t just put him aside.”

Shock washed across Will’s boyishly handsome features. He went perfectly still.

“What is it?”

“He’s immortal? John, I mean?”

“Of course he is.”

Will hooked a finger in the collar of her sweater, pulling it down to the top of her left breast. She leapt away like he was on fire. “What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Listen, Lil. I’m going to stay with you.”

She sputtered in protest, but he put a finger to her lips. “I’m going to shadow you and make sure you’re all right until I can get you to Nathan. I’m here to be your friend.”

He extracted a cell phone from his jacket pocket. “Take this. It’s how we’ll stay in touch.”

She looked at it like it was a viper waiting to strike. “You can’t be serious. How am I meant to hide it from John?”

Will shrugged. “Hide it on your person.”

She stared at him. “John touches me. You don’t think he’ll notice a mysterious cell phone in my pocket?”

His golden hazel eyes skimmed her body. “Wear it on your inner thigh.”

She leveled him with her gaze. “I said John touches me.”

Will caught her against his chest, holding her in an undemanding, brotherly fashion. “I think I see now. Is that what happened?”

A sob broke through the barrier of her control. “Yes,” she said into his shirt. He smelled of fresh laundry and a trace of sweet cigarette smoke. “He Called to me, and I was with John at the time.”

“With as in…with?”

A choked cry escaped her.

“All right, I’ll make it okay. I’ll help you sort through it. When is John returning?”

“Dinnertime. After that, we’re going to Graceland Cemetery.” Realizing she’d made a mess of Will’s shirt, she moved away. He caught her back, lifting his hands to her waving hair and dislodging the rubber band. He stroked the length gently again and again until it was free and smooth down her back.

“I’ll follow you. In the shadows, I’ll be there. I’m not going to leave you.”

“Why? For Nathan?” She met his eyes.

He nodded slightly. “That’s part of it. But mostly I’m here because I want to help you. It’s obvious you’re in distress, and you don’t deserve to be.”

“Don’t I?”

“No,” he said forcefully. “You’re not purposefully hurting the men you love. But they’re pulling you in two directions and causing you tremendous pain.” His words, so easily assessing the situation, grew a lump in her throat.

“How am I going to Call to him now?” Her teeth clamped upon her trembling lip.

Will handed Lillian a tissue. “Call to him and let him see into you. He’ll see your pain. You can’t hide from him, Lillian. It will only torment you further. Let him in. And be easy on yourself.”

She drew a deep, shuddering breath and began a new journey. A cautious journey toward Nathan, rather than running away.

* * *

The little arts and crafts chapel grew out of the cemetery grounds, enveloped with vines. Graceland Cemetery was the kind of place that gave Lillian the impression of walking the countryside. Rather than seeing only monuments to the dead, she saw the beauty of nature.

John left her at the Columbarium Wall, which was a semicircular wall fitted with plaques marking the remains of the dead. Lillian heard the scuttle of dry leaves and lifted her face to the chapping wind. Here, there was always wind, as though ghosts rushed through at high speeds.

She shivered and huddled deeper into her sweater. John’s dark shadow disappeared on his way to find their old friend from the post-war Chicago days. Days of excess had ended that friend’s life. Tears would be shed, but John hated for Lillian to witness them.

As soon as John was out of sight, Will slunk to her side with a grin. “This is fun. Very James Bond.”

She groaned. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” She looked at him, her lip caught between her teeth. “Will, I need to be alone for a bit. I’m going to Call to him.” Her words were quiet and the breeze muffled them further, but she hoped he heard well enough.

He kneaded her shoulder and pointed to a location a short distance away where he could still see her and come quickly if needed. “I’ll be over there. How long will John be?”

“An hour, maybe.”

“Will it take an hour to speak with Nathan?”

She was reminded of the single time their voices had met in that unfamiliar realm and she had lost all inkling of time. She chewed her lip. “I don’t know if he will talk to me.”

“He will.”

“How can you be so sure? I’ve hurt him so deeply.”

“Lillian.” He stooped to plant a kiss onto her forehead. “You are his world now. He’ll talk to you.” With that, he faded into the night.

She dropped to the stone wall, staring at her hands through a film of tears. She felt his name push up against her gut, and spoke it aloud and with her soul.

“Nathan.”

There was a ripple of blond.

Turning away from her.

Nathan, please.

No, Lillian. Not now.

Please hear me. I’m so sorry. You can’t begin to understand this.

Can’t I? His tone made her flinch. She saw his long fingers squeezed into fists, the knuckles white. He let the right fist fall open to reveal a wad of paper.

The poem.

I can see it really shatters you.

She crumpled. Tears erupted from her eyes as blood spurts from a broken nose. She cramped with wracking sobs.

It’s too late. I’ve hurt him, and he’s turned from me forever . Their connection flickered, and she thought he was closed to her.

Lillian, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry like that anymore. It’s killing me.

She gasped for control, her breath stuttering and hiccupping again.

My God, woman. You undo me. His voice, twisted with longing, sent a sharp pang of desire through her.

What I wouldn’t give to be with you, to wrap you in my arms. But if I were there…would you let me?

Yes. How could I resist? Aren’t you having the same Visions as I am?

Jittery, she waited, watching him wind and unwind something about his index finger that looked like a piece of string or a hair.

Subdued, he said, What kind of Visions?

The feather bed. My tattoo.

His breath came hard and fast. Yes, those. His thumb stroked the fine thread about his finger.

Are they real? Will it happen?

That depends on your friend there and which path you choose.

She heard the ultimatum in his voice and froze. Before she could formulate a response, he continued. What I saw, Lillian, I can’t see anymore. Do you have any idea what that’s like?

Her tears were building again, a great wall of water in her chest which would drown her or maybe them both.

What can I do?

Wait for me. Wait for me there in Chicago. Send LeClair on his way and wait for me.

She jolted at the sound of John’s surname—her name—but Nathan’s words resonated within her soul. For a moment of mad joy, she thought she could do that.

Then her heart faltered at the thought of being torn from John.

It’s not as easy as you think. There’s a lot you don’t know.

Lillian, you must realize this connection we have transcends what you have with LeClair. It is a power of its own.

I’m scared.

Nathan stopped. Her cleared his throat and swiped at the hair on his jaw, rasping it. Hot need shot through her, capturing her pussy.

Oh, Lillian. I am here with you. We’ll make it all right. Together. His mouth was set in a determined line.

She fell silent, experiencing the bounds of Nathan’s soul merged with her own. It was like she’d flown through a great window and out the other side to find it was a verdant pasture. When he shuddered, she understood it was because he was provoked by the sight of her chewing her lip. She knew without him saying.

Nathan, tell me something about you , she said suddenly.

Amusement made a bracket appear around his crooked grin. Like what?

I don’t know. Like do you have any sculptures in Graceland Cemetery?

No, not that I’m aware of. You found the Granite Goddess in Seattle.

Yes , she exclaimed in surprise.

Your Visions of me are quite vivid , he said teasingly.

She thought about the things she had seen when she touched Nathan’s art. The images flitted through her head, rapid fire. The feather mattress, the passionate weight of Nathan pressing her down. The taste of him?—

Stop . She felt him groan. This is too erotic.

Lillian laughed out loud. The sound was strange and startling in this quiet place. There was a beat of silence, and then Nathan said, I’ve never heard you laugh.

I suppose not.

I have centuries to make you laugh.

She felt his words shred her. An invisible cord yanked her back through the entrance of his soul, and she suddenly stood on her own side now, peering worriedly through the glass which she felt separating them.

You’re thinking of him.

It’s impossible not to.

Just so you know, I won’t be Calling to you anymore. I’m not up to that again. This time, his mouth was hemmed in by parentheses of pain.

Please don’t be angry. This is so hard for me.

It doesn’t need to be , he growled.

You have no idea what you’re talking about. You can’t sit there and judge me. Even Will understands.

Too late, she knew waving Will at Nathan was a red flag to a bull, taunting him with the fact that yet another man was with the woman he searched for.

Tears scalded her chest.

No, don’t. I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t understand all of it. I only know you are the entire reason for my existence, and I’m crazy with the thought—and the Visions, goddammit—that you are in the arms of another man.

Stop. Please. Don’t go punching any more trucks.

His laughter bubbled up, beautiful music that filled her with joy. Is that how he’d felt a minute ago?

All right. All right, Lil. I can’t make promises, though. His hands flexed, and she felt the light bruising. He lifted them and ruffled his hair into spikes.

She couldn’t stop thinking about that pale hair and how it would feel beneath her fingers. Someone is going to be hurt, she thought. Probably all of us, in the end.

What are you doing? You’re shoving me away, he cried.

I have to. I’m not strong enough to continue right now.

Lillian—

But she did it. She slammed down the sash on the window to Nathan’s soul, and he was suddenly gone from her. She dropped her face into her hands and wept.

And then Will’s arms were spinning about her, lifting her, supporting her and holding her head above the water of a turbulent sea. She had no idea which direction she was to swim, and so she simply bobbed along and allowed Will to hold her afloat.

But Lillian knew the tempest was yet to come.