Mind Game by Christine Feehan Page B

with the force of the horrendous explosion. The stranger’s body helped muffle the sound, but she knew her home, her only sanctuary, was gone from her. Overhead birds shrieked in protest and the world was filled with chaos, but deep inside her, she felt absolute stillness. The eye of the hurricane. Dahlia sucked in her breath and began to struggle, pushing at his heavier body. It was like trying to move a large tree trunk.
    “You’re in danger, you have to get away from me.” Desperation edged her voice. He was immovable and there was no way to make him understand. She still didn’t understand and she lived with it every day of her life. The energy from the explosion swamped her, filled her, mixed with her grief and her own wild rage. She couldn’t contain it much longer, and anything and everything in close proximity to her was in deadly peril.
    “We’re fine,” he said, his voice soothing, calm even.
    There was a cadence to his voice that caught at her—touched her. For a brief second the energy seemed to pause, to stop its swirling madness, but then the pressure surged. “ We are not fine. Get away from me before I hurt you.” She pushed at the wall of his chest, trying to get him off of her. Already the heat was flowing out of her, washing over both of them, filling the air around them with something unnatural. Something wrong. Dahlia struggled to contain it.
    His chest shook, and it took a moment to realize he was amused at her concern. Dahlia hissed at him. “You are an utter idiot. Get off of me right now.” He was laughing. Damn the man, she was desperately trying to save his worthless life and he was laughing at her. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but he didn’t deserve her concern. She drove her thumbs hard into the pressure points just above his groin. He sucked in his breath and his hands caught her wrists like a vise.
    “I’m not going to hurt you, Dahlia, I’m trying to save your life.” There was no laughter in his voice. None at all. His voice made her shiver. Maybe she’d been mistaken about his amusement. He didn’t look like the kind of man who ever laughed.
    “I’m trying to save your life,” she countered in a low tone. She could hear the note of desperation she couldn’t quite stifle. “I can’t explain to you what’s going to happen, but you have to believe me. If you don’t get away from me immediately, you’ll be in terrible danger.”
    He had been looking away from her, back toward the collapsed building, his gaze moving constantly, taking in their surroundings, the flight of the birds and bats, everything but her. He looked down at her for the first time, his black eyes meeting hers. Dahlia felt the impact like a blow. Hard. Penetrating. Deep. She couldn’t read anything at all in his expression, but his gaze seemed to burn her as it moved over her face. He eased his body from hers, getting to his feet in one lithe movement, pulling her up with him. “You’re afraid of the energy you create, aren’t you?”
    It wasn’t that she created energy, but how to explain the unexplainable? She didn’t create the energy— it found her .
    It craved her. Raced to her. Dahlia had never experienced grief or rage at such an unrestrained level. That alone would have been enough of a danger to anyone close to her, but with the violence of death, with the explosion and fire, the energy was far beyond her capabilities to contain it. It was volatile. Unstable. And any moment it would explode in a fiery ball, destroying everything near her.
    Dahlia stepped away from him, putting as much distance between them as she could manage while the energy raged and swirled and demanded to be used. The moment she did, the vortex of heat consumed her, burning her from the inside out, robbing her of her ability to speak, to breathe, to even function. The raw heat shimmered in the air, crackling with electricity. She wanted to cry out to him to run, to save himself. She couldn’t bear to be