Even twelve years later, Stygian had found evidence of the accident, but he’d also found evidence that something more had gone on during that time.
A sweat lodge had been set up not far from the wreck in the canyon below, though great effort had gone into ensuring all evidence of it was wiped away.
Certain things couldn’t be wiped away, though.
The large rocks used in the fire pit had been scattered about the canyon, but even more than a decade later the scars and discoloration of certain herbs used in ritual sweats held to the rock.
Those particular herbs and medicinal roots were such an odd combination, their scent so powerful, even after such time had passed, it had sent a chill racing down Stygian’s spine. Confused by it, he’d had Braden bring his empath Megan to the canyon, to help sort it out. The moment she’d picked up the first stone she’d dropped it as though it still held the heat of the fire and refused to advance any farther into the canyon.
“Fine then, you know where we’ll be,” Liza stated as she turned back to Chelsea.
“Yeah, thankfully, the lake isn’t really that hard to drag. When old man Dunkirk fell out of his boat and drowned himself last summer, they even found that bag of bones secured to the bottom. Remember that?” she asked Liza.
And Liza did remember it. The discovery of that bag of bones had literally preceded the nightmares and odd flashes of someone else’s memories.
A year’s worth of tortured dreams, of waking, screaming, certain she was dying in the flames of the crash, only to have the dream twist, to morph into something far more sinister. It hadn’t been a crash she was burning within. She had been burning from the inside out, restrained to a metal table, screaming for mercy—
“If you’re ready, we can leave then,” he offered, those blue-black eyes seeming to see straight into her soul as he met her gaze.
The urge to wipe her palms along the sides of her jeans was nearly overwhelming.
“Be careful, for God’s sake,” Chelsea called out as Liza stepped from the house. “The last thing I need to do, Liza, is watch you die again.”
Liza flinched, the reaction nearly strong enough to steal her breath at the memory.
The overwhelming darkness, the sound of voices, singing—or was it chanting?—and then the feeling of her soul being ripped from the security of her body.
“Liza.” Stygian was there, one hand gripping her arm, the other going around her waist as she felt her knees threatening to buckle.
Concern filled his voice as she realized she was gripping the door frame desperately, dragging in hard breaths, her chest tightening in something akin to panic.
“I’m fine.” Giving her head a hard shake, she forced herself to ignore the fact that he was the only reason she was still on her feet, despite her hold on the heavy wood encasing the door.
Releasing it, she took each step with deliberate caution, forcing herself to move to the cycle.
“Are you sure?” Dark, dangerous, his expression appeared more savage than ever before, the planes and angles tightened into sharp relief.
“Bad memories.” Yet she still couldn’t seem to drag in enough oxygen. “Sorry.”
“What was she talking about?” The growl in his voice should have been more frightening than sensual.
Yet, sensual was exactly the reaction it caused.
“She meant I died for a few minutes,” she admitted. “Claire and I were in a wreck when we were fifteen. The EMTs lost me several times before we reached the hospital.”
“Chelsea was in the wreck with you, too?” he asked as he led her to the Harley.
“No, she wasn’t with us,” she said, swallowing tightly. “She was with her father when he received word that we were in the bottom of the canyon. She arrived with him, from what I understand.”
Chelsea never seemed to remember much of it except the three times she swore she had felt a part of Liza fighting to die.
She allowed Stygian to hold on to her as he swung a powerful leg over the cycle’s seat before bracing herself on the foot rest and swinging on behind him.
She had never been on a motorcycle—had she?
“Helmet.” Lifting one of the two helmets from the handlebars, he handed it to her.
Fitting it over her head, she then sat silently as he secured the strap before strapping his own in place.
“We’re linked through com sets in the helmets.” His voice came through the padded helmet, roughened, a male rasp of concern and dangerous interest.
“Just ignore the screams of terror.” She tried to laugh off her racing heart as she placed her hands tentatively at his hard waist.
“Here.” Gripping her wrists, he pulled her forward.
Her br**sts pressed against his back in less than a second, the heat of his body sinking through her clothes straight to her ni**les and sensitizing them instantly.
“Hold on tight, sweetheart,” he growled through the link. “Losing you off the back of this bike wouldn’t be the highlight of my day.”
“It’s not exactly penciled into my bucket list either,” she assured him ruefully as the terror from minutes before began to ease away.
“We’re in agreement then.”
As his words trailed off, the beast of a machine turned over and began throbbing with leashed power between her thighs.
The heavy vibration was shockingly sensual.
With her arms wrapped tight around Stygian’s waist, her knees pressing against his thighs, Liza found herself growing more aroused by the second.
God, what he did to her.
Mating heat.
The gossip rags had listed the signs of it over and over again, and the overwhelming need, almost impossible to control, headed the list.
But number one was the kiss.
They all agreed, the kiss came first—somewhere.
To the lips, the neck—her heart beat heavier at the thought—the ni**les or the clitoris.
The thought of his lips touching her in any of those areas was enough to cause her thighs to clench in an involuntary reaction.
A reaction she couldn’t control, and one she was beginning to fear was more her hunger, and even less some animalistic phenomenon impossible to control.
But she didn’t have to admit that to Stygian.
CHAPTER 6
Window Lake shimmered iridescent blue and green beneath the cloudless sky, its calming waters lapping gently at the bank beneath the pristine cottonwood and pinon trees that shaded the picnic shelter Stygian had pulled the Harley up to.