The Golden Bell (3 page)

She grabbed a fork and spun around, breathing
hard, jabbing the utensil threateningly into this stomach. “What
are you doing?”

He looked at her strangely. “I was about to
bless the meal.” He looked askance at the fork, then up at her. “Do
you always react this strongly to displays of religion?”

“You d-don’t have to touch me to pray,” she
said warningly. Touchy-feely men had not been a pleasant part of
her last year.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said slowly,
confidently. Never taking his eyes from hers, he carefully reached
down and closed his hand over hers, directing it away from his
belly. Then, as if she weren’t still quivering with adrenaline, he
softly intoned a short blessing. Releasing her just as leisurely,
he moved away and reclaimed his stool.

When he said nothing and simply served
himself, she slowly uncoiled. The pattern of the fork was still
imprinted on her hand, but she unclenched it with an act of will
and returned to her eating, keeping a wary eye on him.

“Wine?” he poured a glass and offered it to
her, then filled his own glass.

Rain knew about wine. It had little effect on
her kind and went down like water, so she was surprised at the rich
flavor and depth of her first sip. Drawing back, she eyed the
golden liquid, then the decanter in front of Fallon. “This can’t be
wine.”

“Dark Land wine. Careful, it’s stronger than
you’re accustomed to.” His green eyes were amused.

Taking the caution to heart, she sipped
curiously at the otherworldly liquid. “What’s it made from?”

“Dream flowers. It’s a very rare and special
vintage.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Saving a woman is always an occasion.”

She looked away. “I suppose it was worth it;
I might have known some names, caused some needless deaths.”

It disturbed him, the scant belief in her
worth. Her expression said death hadn’t been such a fearful thing,
and it was very bad when someone looked at death as a release.
Maybe he could shake some sense into her. “If we hadn’t come, Rory
would have abused you in ways I wouldn’t describe to my least
favorite dog. The pheromone would have ensured you got some
pleasure out of it…at first. I’ve seen what was left of the women
he used. Their minds went long before their bodies go.”

She still wouldn’t look at him. Her voice was
hollow. “I know what he was. I’m glad he’s dead.”

“The pheromone really shook you up, didn’t
it? That’s normal. Time and a real lover will cure that.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “I’m not…” she
sputtered, and seemed flail for words. “What is this, Dr. Fallon’s
Rx for love?”

“If you like. I’ve had some experience with
female charmers. The only real cure was lengthy separation and…” he
trailed off, smiling with fond remembrance. The cure had been
intensive, the relationship short. She’d sent him away, claiming
affectionately that he’d exhausted her, but there’d been a smile on
her lips as she wished him well. The smile grew wicked as he
remembered what else she’d said. Find a woman who can keep up with
you, love. I’ll be content with lesser wine from now on; you’ve
proven how exhausting it is to drink from your vintage.” Rain’s
presence reminded him that it had been months since he’d last
shared pleasure. Interest made his smile grow. “I could help you,
if you like.”

“I don’t like,” she snapped, far too quickly.
“A cold shower works just as well.”

Judging from the look in her eyes, that
wasn’t the whole truth, but some playful flirting might be just
what she needed to overcome the fear he read there. The girl needed
to lighten up. “What about a massage? I’ve been told I have the
magic touch.”

Had she been a porcupine, her quills would
have gone up. “Do you understand rejection, or do I need to get you
a dictionary? I don’t bedrock with anyone, and definitely not total
strangers.”

That made him study her. A virgin? Untouched
at twenty-two? Or so battered she refused to acknowledge want and
need, possibly even emotion? His mood grew more serious. “Has
someone forced you?”

Anguish flashed in her face. Her jaw
tightened as she hid her wounded eyes. “Not exactly.”

Protectiveness made his voice darken. “You
were attacked.”

“Nobody finished what they started,” she said
quickly, staring at her plate. “I’m not that helpless.” She sent
him a quick, fierce glance and stabbed a bite of dinner, pushing it
around on her plate.

‘Nobody’ implied more than one attacker,
perhaps more than one incident. When had it happened? After her
father’s death, while she was on the run? She was too tightly wound
now to question further, but there would be another time.

It grated that any woman would be attacked,
but bit even deeper with this one. She was under his protection
now, whether she cared for it or not, and he took that
responsibility seriously. She couldn’t stay on the edge she was
walking, one wrong step, and the knife’s edge would cut her in
two.

Fortunately, he was a man of many talents.
Taking care of women ranked among his best.

They were finishing their meal as the
doorbell rang. Excusing himself, he answered it, then returned
bearing the delivered packages. He set them on the counter before
her. “Your clothes have arrived.”

Clearly puzzled, she reached for a bag and
stared at the contents. Slowly, she drew out a pair of folded jeans
and looked at the tag. “These are in my size.”

“I glanced at the tags on your clothes before
I tossed them in the wash. We can exchange anything you don’t like,
but I wanted you to have a selection.” He watched her as he
casually started clearing the table. She looked overwhelmed.

There was nothing extravagant in the bags,
not knowing her tastes, he’d had the sales lady pick up common
designs like t-shirts, a clingy knit top and a sweater. The white
athletic shoes would do until she could choose her own, and though
more personal, the packages of underwear and socks shouldn’t
embarrass her beyond recall. Annoyed, he realized he’d forgotten to
order a coat, but she could wear one of his when they went shopping
tomorrow. He glanced at her to say as much, and stilled. Her eyes
were wet.

She was staring at a new hairbrush, but
didn’t seem to be looking at it. “Thank you.” The words were
strained, almost whispered. “Nobody’s ever…” she broke off and
swallowed.

Awkward. He didn’t do tears well, but Fallon
instinctively understood the basics. Moving to her side, he
gingerly wrapped an arm around her, carefully patting her shoulder.
He was tempted to say, “There, there” like a fool, but resisted the
urge.

Rain sucked in a breath and stiffened her
spine. “Too much wine,” she said a trifle damply, wiping her eyes
with the back of her hand. “I need to sleep it off.”

Relieved, Fallon stepped back. “Good idea.
You’ve had a rough day. I’ll carry this stuff up for you and let
you get settled.”

She leapt on the idea, padding behind him up
the stairs. He entered one of the guest rooms and set the bags on
the floor. For a moment they just stared at each other. “There’s a
lock on the door, but you won’t need it. Nothing is going to bother
you here.” He looked at her gravely, hoping she’d believe him. The
girl deserved a little peace.

She wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Thanks. I
mean it. You’ve been…really nice.”

Hm. He’d had more gushing comments made about
him, but none quite as warming. The girl was refreshing and he
wouldn’t mind keeping her around for a while. “You’re welcome, and
good night.” Closing the door softly, he left her to her
dreams.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful. Rain cast
a guilty look up the stairs. At 2:00 AM in the morning, it was
deathly quiet save for the muted hum of appliances. Stealthily, she
lifted the phone from its cradle and dialed the cab company. With
great care, she shut the phonebook and tucked it back in its place
in the hall secretary.

Leaving this way rankled. She hated taking
anything he’d given her because it just drove the guilt deeper, but
she’d desperately needed the socks and underwear, so she’d left him
the last of her European money with the rest of her new clothes
folded on the bed. She’d doubted he’d want the toothbrush back.

It had been a trick to lock her door from the
outside, but she was resourceful, and it made the illusion of her
sleeping in more real. She had to get away from there before the
council found out where she was. If she waited that long, it would
be too late. Her father had waited on the council and paid for it
with his life.

“You’ve reached the Artic Cab Company. How
can I help you?” A sleepy voice answered on the other line.

Straightening, Rain opened her mouth to give
directions…

“Put it back.”

Swearing, Rain whipped around at the cold
words and stared. Just beyond the reach of the desk light’s glow,
Fallon stood there in jeans and nothing else, staring at her with a
hot golden glow in his normally jade eyes. Shivers chilled her.
Even with her sharp ears strained for any sound, she hadn’t heard
him coming.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Fumbling with the phone in her lax hand, Rain
quickly said, “Wrong number,” and hung up. Guiltily, she shifted,
waiting for Fallon to explode.

His eyes narrowed. “Am I such a poor host
that it’s worth risking frost bite? It’s cold as sin out there, and
you’ve got nowhere to go.”

She drew a deep breath. “I had a plan.”

“So do I. Get back to bed.” The lethal words
warned of impending retribution unless he was obeyed.

She wasn’t stupid enough to attack a
full-blood Haunt in his prime, so she eyed him, wondering if he’d
move or force her to slip past him, passing through his personal
space as she did. Intimidating thought, and she was already
nervous.

Slowly, he moved aside, never taking his eyes
off of her.

Giving thanks to his sketchy sense of
chivalry, she slid past, holding her breath until she made the
stairs.

He stalked after her.

Eyes widening, she hurried along, juggling
her lock picks in her haste to get her door unlocked. Difficult
become impossible when he paused behind her and stared at her
hands.

Giving her a look, he slipped the tools from
her damp fingers and did the honors. Blinking in surprise, she slid
into the room, unsurprised when he kept her picks.

He drew her door key from his pocket and
tossed it on the carpeted floor. “You’ll feel better having that,
though there’s little point, is there?” He looked at the bed and
his brows rose. Moving closer, he frowned at the piles of folded
clothes and the foreign currency resting on top. He glanced at
her.

“I paid you back,” she said defensively. It
wasn’t much money, but it was all she had.

“Did you put a price on your rescue, too? I
could present you with an itemized bill, if you like.” Arms folded,
he looked at her with an unreadable expression. The posture did
sinful things to all that naked muscle.

Tamping down on her hormones and the sudden
urge to weep, she looked aside. “I can’t pay you back for that. I
can only say thank you.” A pitiful, inadequate phrase, but all she
had.

“That was all I wanted for the clothes, too.
If you really want to return the favor, then stay here and get some
rest. I’m not in the mood to track you through the ice fog.” His
tone had softened. Firmly, he reached out and lifted her chin. “If
you leave, I will find you…and you won’t like my mood when I do.”
With that final warning, he released her and strode out of her
room.

It was a minute before she could breathe
normally. Just standing next to him sucked all the air out of her
lungs. Standing next to him while he was half-naked…

Groaning, she moved the clothes onto the
dresser and threw herself down on the bed. How did he manage to
make her feel like an erring child and a hormone-plagued teen at
the same time? It confused her, added to the stress in an already
stressful moment. Now he thought she was ungrateful. That hurt.
Maybe she hadn’t stopped mentally running long enough to really
consider what he’d done for her, but she didn’t have time. He was
going to make her speak to the council, and she had to avoid
that.

Her father’s murderer was on the council. She
couldn’t prove it, had no idea who it was, but the last time she’d
spoken to her father he’d told her he was going to share one of her
inventions with his friend on the council. The next thing she’d
known, their home was being raided and her father was dead, his
workshop ransacked. She’d barely gotten away with her life that
time and she wasn’t dumb enough to tempt fate twice.

How was she going to escape Fallon? Clearly
sneaking away would be bloody difficult. Killing him wasn’t an
acceptable option, even if she could manage it; a doubtful prospect
at best. Incapacitating him might work, but he was wily enough to
make that tough. Getting the drugs to make him sleep, let alone
getting him to take them, would tax even her sneaky mind, and
coshing him on the head… She shuddered, imaging his expression if
he weren’t knocked out, or worse, his retribution if she tried to
bash him and failed. Haunt men made Navy Seals look like babes in
nappies, and her pitiful street fighting wouldn’t save her. If he
wanted to, Fallon could power through her moves like a full
throttle locomotive, smashing her in the process. You didn’t take
on a Haunt male unless you were suicidal, and she hadn’t reached
that point yet.

She could seduce him. As soon as the notion
presented itself, she rejected it. Stupid idea. Bedding him
wouldn’t relax his guard, especially when she’d flinched from him
like a caged sparrow at dinner. Not only would he not believe it,
she just couldn’t do it.

Men scared her. It wasn’t because she’d
suffered any hideous hurt at their hands. Her father had been her
best friend, but she’d always been shy, not the kind of girl that
appealing males coveted. As a result she’d had no boyfriends and
had experienced only a couple of forgettable kisses. Flirting
aside, someone like Fallon wouldn’t even want her, and she didn’t
need to deal with rejection on top of everything else.