Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Now he was on the jetty, waiting for said boat. He paced up and down. Finally, the noise of an engine sounded in the distance. He scanned the horizon until he spotted the boat. A short while later, the boat pulled in next to the jetty and a deckhand threw him a rope.
He checked his watch. It was ten minutes past the agreed hour. Asia was late. Maybe it took longer to get rid of her client. Women talked. But he couldn’t hold off much longer without raising the skipper’s suspicion, and the longer the boat was docked here, the higher the risk of Juan spotting it.
Something else bothered him, too. That morning, when Jeanne had pointed a gun at him and Asia, he couldn’t pull up his power. As always, he’d felt the art surge through his body to trigger some geological disaster. His organs had heated. He’d become intensely aware of the molecules in his body. A noise like sandpaper chaffing on wood had sounded in his ears. A slow, pleasurable heat had spread from his abdomen through his veins. His heart had kicked into pump-action, beating too fast for his brain to keep up, sending more heat to his eyes until he’d seen nothing but red. He’d sworn after the accident with Maddy he’d never use his gift again, but when Jeanne had pointed that gun at Asia, he hadn’t hesitated. He’d been standing in Jeanne’s lounge, waiting for the disaster to hit. And then nothing. Nothing had fucking happened.
He’d shaken internally as his brain had been split in two by fury and intent. He could never tell exactly what impact he’d cause. Maddy had been much better at controlling her art and its effects. He, on the other hand, had to take his chances. The way he manipulated the earth varied as much in form as in intensity. It could be a puff of smoke from the top of a volcano or a full-blown eruption. Tectonic plates could move under his feet to crack the crust of the earth or push a mountain as high as the Andes to the surface. He had no control. He’d stood waiting this morning, eager to see in which direction his wrath would blow the ground, but nothing had happened. He’d failed to save them.
He didn’t understand. Was his art dead? It had to be if he couldn’t lift a finger to defend Asia. The thought of being helpless as someone hurt and touched her drove him insane. Maybe he’d transferred his art to Maddy before she’d died. An arts practitioner could take the gift of someone else, but only if that someone was killed. Yet, he was still breathing. It didn’t make sense. He’d gotten what he’d always wanted, to be rid of his art, and now that it was gone, he needed it more than ever.
The skipper watched him from the boat. He forced himself to stop moving and stand still. Fuck. It was half past one. He’d have to go look for Asia. He was about to turn back to the lodge when a figure dressed in white appeared on the path under the trees. He drew in a long, deep breath of relief, and then he tensed again. She was walking too slowly. She treaded as if on eggs. Something was wrong.
His world came to a standstill. There it was, that fear he’d felt the first time he’d laid eyes on her. The innocence and hope were gone from her tread. The belief that the world was a good place had vanished from the upbeat rhythm of her shoes. The way she walked was different now, and it would never be the same.
He took a step in her direction, his instinct on high alert. He checked for guards in the bushes or behind the trees, but saw no one.
She drew to a stop close to him. Why did she maintain the small distance? Why wasn’t she running to the safety of the boat? Tears glistened on her pale cheeks. Drops clung to her long lashes. His insides started to burn like dynamite on a fuse. He cocked his head in a questioning gesture, too frightened to speak for the fear of her answer.
She shook her head slowly, her face a beautiful mask of distress. She lifted her hand to the high collar of her tunic and pulled open the edges. Something flashed in the sun, something she wore around her neck. He squinted and focused his eyes, and then that fuse inside of him burned to its end.
She wore a perimeter collar.
Chapter 6
Juan had collared her like a fucking dog.
Sean was going to kill Juan with his bare hands. To hell with his art. He’d just do it the old-fashioned way.
Without saying a word, he made his way toward the lodge with big strides, but Asia caught his wrist in her small hand when he reached her.