Gift of Fire (Gift #2)

Gift of Fire (Gift #2) Page 59

Faint traces of rage, anguish, and pain washed fleetingly through Jonas as the ribbon tried to coil weakly around his wrist. He quickly released the weak ribbon of emotion and moved back out of reach. Denied its prey, the snake rejoined the looping mass hovering around Verity.

"Are you all right?" Verity asked.

He knew she hated it when he touched one of the dangerous ribbons.

"I'm fine. Let's get out of here." In real time he took a step backward, away from the spot where Elyssa had been standing when she had fallen. The hazy image and the psychic corridor vanished instantly.

Verity stood rubbing her arms briskly. "Do you really think she was pushed, Jonas?"

He shrugged. "Something happened out here. Something that involved Elyssa and another person who was feeling both rage and heavy emotional pain. The vision was vague, but you know that I wouldn't have picked up on it at all if Elyssa had fallen by accident."

Chapter Fourteen

"I suppose it must have been Yarwood," Verity said quietly as they walked back to the villa, "although I can't really picture it. He must have found out about Elyssa's hobby of fooling around with every available male psychic. We heard them arguing, remember? And if he found out what she tried to do this morning he might have really gone crazy." "Maybe."

Verity's brows came together in a sharp line. "What do you mean, 'maybe'? What other explanation is there?"

Jonas shrugged. "I don't know. But Elyssa's been fooling around for quite some time apparently, and Yarwood hasn't tried to kill her until now."

"Maybe he hadn't realized what she's been doing all along."

"It doesn't make sense. He must know what she's like," Jonas insisted.

"Love is blind," Verity said philosophically.

"Bullshit. I'm in love with you and I'm not blind to all your faults, or all the trouble you cause me."

Verity dug an elbow into his ribs.

"Ouch! Dammit, that hurt." Jonas stopped and pulled her into his arms. His eyes held a familiar glitter.

"Oh no you don't, not out here on the cold, wet ground." But the excitement was simmering in her veins, too. It had flooded her the instant she'd looked into his eyes. "You know something, Jonas Quarrel? I've given this matter of your getting horny every time we go into that psychic corridor a lot of thought, and I've come to a few conclusions."

"I'm not the only one who gets hot after we go into the corridor," he growled as he nuzzled her throat.

"And I've told you, I never experienced this particular aftereffect until I met you. Never had the problem all those months I was being tested at Vincent College. Never had the problem when I authenticated artifacts for all those museums and collectors. No, ma'am, never had any problem like this at all. Until I met you, my thoughts were always as pure as the driven snow whenever I came out of a session in the corridor."

"Don't you dare imply that I'm the cause." She felt the heat from his body and her insides began to turn to mush, as usual. Her knees got weak. In another few minutes she would barely be able to stand.

"You know you can't lie to me, little tyrant," he said with deep satisfaction. "You feel the same way I do right now."

"Maybe, but I've decided that I don't get this way because of the corridor," Verity said, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of propriety. "It isn't being your psychic anchor that does this to me."

"No? Then what does it to you?" Jonas didn't seem very interested in her answer. He was too busy nibbling on her ear.

"It's you, dammit. Not the experience in the corridor." She planted her palms against his chest and tried in vain to push him back a step. "You do this to me. It must be the way you look at me or something. I'm not sure, but I know it isn't the corridor that does it because I don't start feeling this way until you start leering at me. It's all your fault."

Jonas chuckled, sounding pleased. "Well then, that's just as it should be," he said complacently. "Let's go upstairs and find a whip. It's my turn."

"Jonas!" She blushed hotly.

But he was already lifting her into his arms and carrying her through the villa door.

Maggie Frampton was hovering in the main hall. She peered uneasily at Jonas and Verity. "I wondered where you two had gone."

"We just took a little walk," Jonas said smoothly. "Verity is exhausted."

"I know what you mean," Maggie said wistfully. "I used to get that same exhausted look on my face when Digby invited me to go down to the torture chamber." She turned and walked heavily out of the hall.

"She really misses him," Verity said softly. "It's going to be hard on her when Doug sells this place."

"Speaking of a hard-on," Jonas murmured as he started up the stairs, "let me tell you about my little problem."

"I've seen this problem of yours before, Jonas Quarrel, and it's not little."

Maggie listened to Quarrel's bootsteps ringing on the stone as he carried Verity up the stairs. Her hands bunched into broad fists. More than anything else she wanted them all to leave. She just wanted them out of here. Digby would have felt the same way.

How he would have despised Preston Yarwood. Yarwood was nothing but a clever con man, Digby would say. And he would have kicked Oliver Crump and his silly crystals out the front door, too. Maggie didn't like the way Oliver watched everyone and everything from behind those little round glasses.

Something told her he saw far too much.

And as for Slade Spencer, Digby wouldn't have tolerated him and his drugs for a minute. Maggie frowned as she thought about Spencer. There was something vaguely familiar about him. She wished she could put her finger on it. When she got the chance, she decided, she'd have a little peek at his things upstairs. It would be easy enough to do; she had a master key to all the rooms in the villa.

But the main problem around here was Doug and Elyssa. They held the fate of the villa in their hands.

Later, Verity, who was lying on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows and leaned over Jonas to get his attention. He opened one eye and regarded her with lazy indulgence.

"You're glaring at me again. Didn't your father ever warn you about frown lines?" he asked. "Pests are at high risk for them. They need to take extra precautions."

Verity arched her brows. "Such as?"

"Such as smiling at their lovers a lot and practicing saying yes."

"I say yes to you far too often. Look where it gets me." She tilted her chin to indicate the tousled bed.