“I’ve felt it as well,” he agreed grimly. He never wanted to experience it again.
“Back at the house, I wanted to help Jesse, to keep someone from hurting him. I didn’t mean to set anyone on fire, just scare everyone, when they were taking Jesse. I don’t have any control when the energy is severe like that. I could burn down the house with you and Jesse in it.”
Dahlia tried to keep her voice even. She had never felt so worthless in her life. Nicolas had managed to reduce her to a burden. She looked away from him into the trees, breathing deeply to keep her rising emotions under control. She needed to be away from everyone, to return to the sanctuary of the bayou. It was the only place she knew. The only one she called home.
“Dahlia.” Nicolas reached out and brushed tears from her face. “I can’t change who I am, not even for you.”
She jerked her head away from the caress of his fingers. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“It means I always go in first. It means I have to take the hot mission. I live by a strict code, and it’s a matter of honor with me.”
She sat in silence for few minutes before scooting back toward the broad trunk of the nearest tree, giving him plenty of room to lie down. “It doesn’t negate what you said. I would be a burden to you if I went in. To both of you.”
Nicolas sighed as he stretched out on the sheet, lying with his head in her lap. She didn’t protest, and her hand immediately nestled in his hair. She began rubbing strands of his hair between her thumb and finger. “I didn’t say burden, Dahlia. You could never be a burden. I have to do this my way. The way I was trained. You have something you’re very good at doing. This is what I do.”
She leaned back against the tree trunk. “What am I supposed to be doing while you’re in the house alone?”
“Waiting. We’re going to need to get him out fast if he’s alive. He’ll need medical care immediately. We’ll have to contact your people and get him to a hospital.”
His voice was drowsy. Dahlia looked down at his perfectly sculpted face. Her fingertips traced his strong jaw. “I don’t have any people. I do work for them, but I’m not one of them. It isn’t the same thing. Jesse’s NCIS; I’m nobody.”
He tried to analyze her voice. Was the ache of loneliness in her words or her tone? Or maybe it struck a cord in him. Even in training he had felt apart, until he had made an attempt to learn to utilize the healing skills both grandfathers said were strong in him. He had volunteered to be enhanced, mainly in the hopes of opening his mind to the healing arts. He had gained many psychic talents, and for the first time he had felt a part of something bigger, yet he still, to his shame, could not tap into the strong resource his grandfathers had been so certain was within him.
He reached up and took her hand, settling his fingers around hers. “You aren’t nobody, Dahlia, you’re a GhostWalker. They hired you because you’re exceptional at what you do. We don’t do too bad together for a couple of people that are used to being alone, do we?”
A faint smile curved her mouth. “At least I’ve learned not to singe fingers.”
A night breeze came up off the river, helping to ease the heat of the day. “I enjoy being with you Dahlia. Singed fingers or not.”
Dahlia looked down at Nicolas. His eyes were closed, his voice sleepy, drifting into no more than a murmur. There was a quality about him that she found restful. She had worked at finding peace in her life, a sanctuary, but it had always been alone, her home, the bayou, never with a person. She had been unable to spend more than half an hour at a time with Milly or Bernadette or Jesse. Yet she was with Nicolas almost continually, and the more physical contact she had with him, the easier it seemed to be.