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  My body rebels against the two hour drive to June Lake, and I try to distract myself from the aches by looking outside at the beautiful scenery. When the van finally rolls to a stop, I jump outside and stretch my protesting muscles.

  “You okay?” Jensen asks, studying me again.

  “I’m good,” I assure him before turning to look at the small cabin nestled at the edge of a rocky cliff. The view is nothing short of awe-inspiring. I could get lost here playing my violin and listening to the echoes of the music bouncing off the walls of the cliff into the valley below. Where the hell did that thought come from? I’m shocked to feel a desire to play; I haven’t felt it in so long.

  A stunning redhead opens the door and rushes outside to meet Andy, pulling me from my newly revitalized eagerness to have my violin in my hands.

  Andy picks her up and swings her around.

  I catch myself hoping Jensen doesn’t do the same. Dang, I hate the petty feeling of jealousy. The redhead’s greeting to Jensen is much more subdued, only giving a quick hug, and I can’t help but smile.

  “This is Amira,” Jensen states, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer, “and this is Saige.”

  I throw up my hand and smile politely.

  She returns the gesture, her hazel eyes darting between Jensen and me before lingering on me for a bit too long. An undercurrent of her own jealousy zaps me along with a hefty dose of curiosity. She needs to be careful with that last one.

  “Come inside. I have a hot lunch ready with plenty of cold beer.”

  “You always did know the way to my heart,” Andy teases.

  I hesitate, getting a feeling of uneasiness about this place, although Andy feels nearly giddy.

  “C’mon, Saige,” I know you have to be starving. “I’ve barely seen you eat anything.”

  Pushing away the unsettling emotions, I force a smile and follow Jensen. My jaw drops when I see the inside of the cabin decorated in white, ethereal curtains framing the windows, white candles lining several full bookshelves and the counters, a crystal ball majestically sitting as the dining table’s center piece, and tarot cards sitting on a side table. Even the furniture is positioned in a very feng shui manner. The only thing missing is a Ouija board. My belief in her so-called abilities is dwindling by the second. My hope to find the bomber is evaporating just as fast.

  The tangy, delicious smell of homemade chili makes my stomach growl, and my mouth waters at the aroma wafting from the pot on the stove. When she pulls jalapeno cornbread from the oven, I seriously rethink my earlier uneasiness. Lunch is just as amazing as it smells, and we all sit around our empty bowls as Amira takes the bomber’s bag. I glance around her cabin again, taking a slow sip of my beer.

  Amira catches me gazing warily at the tarot cards. “Those are just my way to make a living. That and reading palms.”

  A palm can’t tell anyone anything about someone’s life. It’s scams like that crap that gives real physics a bad rap, but I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to offend a friend of Jensen and Andy. “You can see someone’s past by touching something they have?” I ask, more than a little curious about what Andy did and what they state Amira can do.

  “Parts of it, but I do much better by touching the actual person,” she responds quietly, her brow furrowing as she runs her fingers across the brown duffle. “He grew up in Tennessee but was sent to different boarding schools up North. He was trained before your father trained him.” Amira flashes a flirtatious smile at Jensen before she closes her eyes, and I can’t help but wonder which part of Jensen she’s touched to know about his past. The burrow between her brows deepens like she’s concentrating hard on something. “There is a place that he goes to often. A place he feels most at home. If you go there, I bet you’ll find out more about who he really is.”

  “Where is this place?” Jensen asks, leaning closer to the table.

  “Not far from your home,” Amira smiles. “It’s about time you headed back to Boone and saw your dad after all these years, don’t you think?”

  Jensen’s jaw tightens and he flashes her a warning look that leaves me even more lost on just what she knows about his life and how she knows it. “Do you know specifics about this place’s location?”

  “It’s a two story white house in Hampton, TN. It has a covered wrap around porch. That’s all I got about it. I’m sorry.” Amira frowns, “But I did get that he’s very dangerous, Jensen.” Her hands slide across the table to where her fingertips are touching his.

  My chest tightens and my eyes fall to the hands in my lap. I barely have time to blink and Jensen’s hand is covering mine, easing the tightness a little.

  Amira sits back in her chair.

  Jensen places my hand on top of the table, still held firmly in his, and her eyes widen before she pulls them away from Jensen’s silent message of something I’m not quite sure of yet.

  Andy clears his throat, “I think I’ll have another bowl of chili before we go.”

  “I can read your palm, Saige, and maybe tell you a bit about your future,” Amira offers, smirking.

  “You can see people’s pasts, so why don’t you just stick to that,” I reply, trying to play nice and not wanting her to read into anything involving me.

  “Seeing someone’s past is the best predictor to their future. How do you think I do so well here?” she states, motioning to her small, but very comfortable cabin. Her hand brushes against my sleeve and her eyes narrow, darting to Jensen, then back to me, and I know exactly what she wants to see more of as she reaches for my hand.

  Shaking my head, I go to pull my hand back into my lap but I’m too late.

  Amira grabs my hand and places her palm on top of mine. She visibly winces, and I jerk my hand away. She goes to open her mouth, but I cut her off, punching her hard in the nose.

  “Guess you didn’t see that coming did you, bitch?” I snap, biting back tears. Apparently, I was wrong. A helluva lot can be told from a palm. Things that shouldn’t have happened to be able to be told in the first place.

  “Saige!” Jensen yells at me.

  The tears are threatening to fall and I don’t want him to see them, so I storm towards the door, rushing outside towards the fence at the cliff. I refuse to let the tears fall as I stand there, looking out over the valley below as a sense of peace begins to knock the edge off the raging emotions inside. The view of the valley reminds me of the field Jensen and I spent hours lying in the grass together, our field.

  I don’t know how long I’m alone before I hear the screen door open and creak closed, but it’s enough to have calmed me. The gravel makes soothing crunching sounds underneath Jensen’s feet as he makes his way towards me, and I close my eyes, letting the breeze blow through my hair and the sun warm my face. It feels good. I feel good right now, and I want to hold onto this feeling for as long as I can. I keep my back turned towards him and silently will him to stay quiet, to just stand next to me and enjoy the moment without saying anything, without asking the questions I dread, but I know he won’t.

  Leaning next to me, he clears his throat and the moment begins to slip away, making me want to cry again. “You okay?” he asks, staring straight ahead like he’s afraid to look at me, wondering how I’ll react.

  “Sure,” I reply with my eyes closed and my face turned towards heaven, fighting to grasp my peaceful moment before it completely fades.

  “If you ever need to talk, Saige, I’m here.”

  Something in his voice stirs that uneasiness back to life, causing me to open my eyes, and my moment disappears. “Talk?”

  The way he shifts next to me shows his struggle. “I know this shit you deal with is hard, more than anyone should ever have to put up with, but you can talk to me when you feel overwhelmed.” He pauses before continuing, “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

  I push away from him and climb over the railing, knowing where this is going.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice edged with a hint of panic.
r />   “You think I’m going to jump, don’t you?” I ask, turning towards him as I take a step backwards, closer to the edge of the cliff. “Your voodoo friend in there told you that I’m suicidal didn’t she?” I state flatly, already knowing she did, and hating how he seems to have believed her.

  “She said you’ve contemplated it,” Jensen admits, placing his hand on the railing and propelling himself across effortlessly, taking a step towards me with his hand held out.

  “Contemplated it?” I stare at his hand, contemplating taking it, contemplating him, but not contemplating what he thinks I am right now. He looks sad, and it pisses me off. I fought like hell to get through what happened and I made it on my own. I don’t want his pity. I take another step backwards, my eyes daring him to say anything as I spread my arms out in the air, feeling the powerful breeze swaying me. I’m being a brat, but I don’t care. He should know me better than what she told him. “You believe her?”

  His silence is answer enough.

  “Well, I don’t need some hero to save me. I’m not going to end myself, so stop worrying.”

  “Then get back over here, Saige,” he demands gently.

  “I like how I feel right here.” Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and raise my arms higher as the air swirls around my body. There’s something liberating about knowing that just a few more steps are the difference between life and death; mere inches will end it all. Suicide. Hell, yeah, I’ve contemplated it at my lowest point, but I’m stronger than that.

  Jensen’s hand closes around my wrist as he yanks me towards him. All liberty is gone as I crash into his hard chest. Two strong fingers tilt my chin and his thumb wipes a tear from my cheek as I lower my gaze, caught off guard from my slip of emotions. “I like you here, with me.”

  His gaze holds me prisoner as his eyes burn with too many damn emotions, and I hate how I need to feel them even though I don’t want to.

  “She’s wrong, you know. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but never seriously,” I explain, not knowing why I’m telling him something so personal, but it feels natural, just like it used to when he knew me better than I ever could.

  “I guess everyone’s thought about it, Saige,” he tells me soothingly, his breath warm and intoxicating as it caresses my cheek. “I’m relieved to know it was only a passing thought for you.”

  I feel his eyes continuing to search me and my head spins as I realize I want to give him everything he’s looking for, but I don’t know how. “You keep trying to protect me. Why?” I ask, needing to know what he sees in me when he looks at me like that.

  “It’s about damn time someone tries to protect you.” His voice is raw, tainted with undiluted anger, and I cringe, trying to pull away from him. He grabs my arms, holding me firmly in place, “You don’t need to run away from me. Stop hiding who you are underneath the hardass exterior you fight like hell to keep up so you can push everyone away because it won’t work with me. Not anymore.” His grip loosens slightly as he pulls me towards him, softly brushing his lips against my forehead, “What the fuck did they do to you, Saige?”

  One look into the dark rage in his eyes and I can see that he already knows more than I want him to. “It doesn’t matter,” I whisper, not able to hold his gaze any longer.

  “The hell it doesn’t!” Jensen grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

  The wind blows my hair in my face and I brush it behind my ear, looking down.

  Jensen takes my chin, forcing it up again. His jaw tightens and his voice is raw, “They hurt you didn’t they?”

  I don’t say a word, but I don’t have to; I can tell he knows they did by the fire blazing in his eyes. “It was years ago. I barely remember it.”

  “Bullshit! You can’t pretend that you can forget what those bastards did to you.” Jensen rakes his hand angrily through his hair, pushing the blonde strands away from his green eyes. Right now, those eyes are full of dark, excruciating retribution. “They tortured you! Amira said they used shock treatment, Saige!”

  The anger behind the foul string of expletives that falls from his mouth is so out of place for him, but hearing it hardening the words from his lips is strangely comforting. I can’t feel his emotions, but I don’t need to feel them to know that he at least gives a shit about me. He was always there for me since I was seven years old. Things between us changed. He changed a couple of weeks before he sent me away, and I have to know what I did to cause him to make such a drastic intervention or whatever in the hell he thought it was.

  My heart pounds furiously in my chest. Haunting memories assault me. “I know you wanted to keep me safe and keep my abilities hidden from your father and brother, but why didn’t you tell me how you were feeling? How could you lie to me about my being accepted into the music school and send me to a place like that instead?”

  “You think that I sent you to that hellhole?” he asks, his anger and horror rioting as pain darkens his eyes.

  “Not at first. But when you never returned my calls after I left you messages begging you to get me out of there, what in the hell was I supposed to think?” I half scream, half sob.

  “I didn’t listen to your messages. I swear I didn’t know! I would’ve killed every fucking one of them if I knew.” Tears blur his eyes as he grabs my shoulders, yanking me close to him and refusing to let me go as I struggle against his unrelenting hold. “I didn’t listen to your messages because I knew that the second I heard your voice I wouldn’t have had the strength not to run like hell to get to you again.”

  God, I want to believe him. For nine years I never doubted him, not once. My faith in him was stronger than my faith in anything else. Trust like that doesn’t die easily, and it never fully went away when we were apart. The agony in his eyes blares the truth and I can’t hold back the sobs any longer. The past four years I tried to think of every possible scenario that would exonerate him from what happened to me. A part of me always believed he could never put me through hell like that, knowing that there was no way he could be aware of what was happening to me. Hearing that he really didn’t know restores my faith in him, my faith in me for wanting to believe him, for missing him, for still wanting him despite all the pain I endured.

  Jensen leans so close, I can feel his warm breath against my face. His green eyes shine just like they did before all of the crap that happened, and I have to catch my breath. I’ve needed to see him look at me like this again so badly, I’ve dreamt about it every night. Gently, he places his hand against my cheek, his fingers softly caressing my skin, “This is how you deserve to be touched, Saige. All I’ve ever wanted for you is something good, something pure, that can take your pain away.”

  The warmth of his touch restores every last tortured piece of me and tears spill down my cheeks, “I had that for nine years. I had you. All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

  “You have me now. If you still want me.” I hear the truth in his voice as clear as I hear the unspoken plea when he continues, “I want to be there when you need me, every time you need me. I’m all yours, Saige, every last broken and mending piece of me. You can deny it all you want, but you know you’re mine. You’ve always been mine, and you’re full of shit if you think that anything can change you being my girl.” Jensen takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him as he softly demands, “Tell me you know that nothing can change you being mine.”

  My cheeks glisten with hot tears. “Just promise me one thing first.”

  “Anything,” he whispers.

  “Don’t ever leave me again.”

  “Never, Saige. I swear to God I’ll never leave you again,” he promises, and I believe him.

  I slide my hand in his wind tangled locks as I bring my lips to his, “Nothing will ever change my being yours.”

  Chapter Six

  Jensen

  Saige said the words I’ve needed to hear for four long years, and the love I feel for her nearly brings me to my knees. Sliding my hands around her hips, I lift her up,
crashing my mouth against hers. She wraps her legs around my waist as our tongues collide, tangling and tasting as I savor every inch of its sweetness before savoring her lips. She opens herself freely to me, sucking my lip inside her mouth and wrapping her legs tighter around me.

  The hard-on raging inside my jeans bulges against my zipper and I grind Saige against the part of me that is exploding to be inside her. I feel Saige’s covered heat pulsing against my throbbing dick, and it’s all I can do not to lay her down and take her on the side of this friggin’ cliff. She feels so damn good; she’s killing me with her soft lips and wet heat plunging, nipping, and rubbing against places that want to thrust and taste every piece of her.

  Saige tangles her hands in my hair, slowly licking my bottom lip before grazing her teeth against the wet skin as she rocks against my swollen state, causing my loud, need-filled groan to rumble against her mouth. Damn, I want her so fuckin’ bad. I slide my hands down her waist, cupping her soft, full ass as she continues to torture me with moves I know I didn’t teach her but wish to goodness I was the one who did. Pressing my fingers into her tight ass, I grind against her hard, and her head drops back. The tips of her long hair brush against my hands as her eyes close, a soft, needy moan escaping her kiss swollen lips.

  Rationally, I know she wouldn’t have waited for me, but I want to rip the heart out of every other man who has touched her. Not wanting her to think I’m accusing her, or for her to know how much it fucking hurts to think of her with another man when she was always my girl, I kiss her long and hard, giving her all the love I can fit into it before pulling back so I can see her beautiful face when I reclaim what’s mine. “I don’t care how many men have kissed you, touched you; you’re still mine. You have always been mine, and those bastards and their touch don’t exist anymore…not to me,” I growl, running my hand up the back of her neck as her soft hair tangles in my fingers, “only my touch exists now.”