Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
He slid his fingers over the soft skin of her inner wrist, sliding back and forth in a soothing caress. “That’s the question, isn’t it? If you don’t remember, there’s a reason for it. You suffered a trauma, and it’s somehow connected to that tattoo.”
Her palm covered the artwork. “Do you have nightmares, Gideon? About the things they did to you?”
“Yes. That’s why I created this place. Up here, the nightmares can’t find me. Even if I fall asleep, I usually can escape them.” He answered honestly. He wasn’t going to pretend she would be getting a bargain if she did choose to try to have a relationship with him. “When I’m inside, I don’t sleep very well.”
He kept stroking her wrist right over her pulse. Her heart rate was climbing. He bent toward her. “What is it, Red? You’re safe enough up here. Just tell me.”
“I have nightmares too. Often. Almost every night. They’ve been getting worse.” She whispered it to him but broke off before she told him what her nightmares were about.
The wind tugged at them through the foliage, cool on their faces. Gideon remained silent. Waiting. Her fingers curled in his. Held tighter.
“I don’t remember my childhood.” The confession came out like a sin. “Nothing. Not a single thing. How can I not have a single memory of my life before my parents died? Why would I block out those years?”
She turned her head to look at him, and there was pain in her eyes. She couldn’t fake that. Had Whitney taken her memories from her and sent her out into the world? Why would he do that? What would be his motivation? Gideon couldn’t see past the pain in her. It was so real he ached for her.
“Do you remember your parents?” he asked, keeping his voice as soft and as gentle as he was able.
She hesitated, and then she turned away from him, but not before he caught the sheen of liquid in her eyes as she shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this when we’re supposed to be having a fun time.”
“We’re supposed to be getting to know one another,” he corrected. “I want to know everything about you.” He brought her hand to his chest. “I’ve got things in my past that are going to be difficult to navigate. Maybe that’s why we’re so drawn to one another. We fit.”
She turned to him, her smile back. “You always seem to say the right thing.”
“I know we can work, Rory. I’ve searched all over the world looking for the right woman. I’m not about to give you up because there are a couple of issues.”
Her laughter bubbled up. “A couple of issues? At least you didn’t say little issues.”
He found himself returning her smile. He liked that she had a sense of humor. She would need it with him. He settled back in the chair, retaining her hand against his chest with one hand and picking up his beer with the other. “So, no past history at all. You just found yourself moving around a lot. Do you know where your history came from? Did you read about yourself on the internet?”
She followed his lead, picking up her water for a sip. “I created my past. I had to have one. It was easy enough to do.”
His eyebrow shot up. “Very few people have the skills to create a past, and that includes the paperwork that could pass scrutiny by experts.” Two experts had gone over her past, and neither had caught that it was fake. “Do you have those kinds of skills too?”
Rory’s lips tipped up. Her eyes took on an even deeper green. “I’ve got mad skills when it comes to paperwork. I’m good with languages too. That really helps when I’m bartending. I can look out for my customers.”
He found it interesting that looking out for her customers was her first priority, and speaking several languages was useful to her in that regard. She was a GhostWalker with a need to protect others, whether she knew it or not.
“Where did your name come from?”
She gave him that little frown again, the one he was beginning to find endearing. She could make his entire body react, come alive, without even trying. He’d thought he was long dead, but somehow, she’d found a way to bring him back to life.
“I think it’s my real name. But you’re looking at me with the same expressionless look on your face that you get when you’re frowning inside.”
She leaned across the little table separating them and brushed along his jaw with the pads of her fingers. Then she moved those fingers to his lips, and his heart jumped. She rubbed back and forth as if she could erase the frown she saw in his mind. He felt each stroke moving through him like an electric arc.