Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 140803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Jonquille found herself back to the present, tears on her face. She rarely allowed herself to think about the other women in her past, those girls she had shared a nightmare childhood with. As she had grown and the electrical energy in her body had increased, the charging had grown worse and she had been forced to separate herself from the others in order to keep from drawing their energy to her. They would talk to her at night, but she couldn’t be in the same room with them and it felt like isolation all the time. Whitney had clothes that helped, but he deliberately wouldn’t let her wear them to be with the other girls unless she was training.
She wanted freedom. She wanted to be able to use her healing gift. Rubin was a doctor. He could help others. She was born to help others, but she couldn’t do that. She could only live in the woods or in a small drab apartment and sneak into a laboratory at night and do her research to try to find a way to reverse the things Whitney had done to her.
She felt Rubin’s presence before he actually reached her. He did something to her body. Usually, when she was close to other human beings, the energy fed the electrical charges in hers until she was so completely overwhelmed, she had to get away from everyone. Her core temperature would rise and she’d feel sick. Her skin would become prickly and tiny sparks would zap her all over. With Rubin, none of that happened. Well—unless she kissed him. Then it happened in a good way.
She caught up her sketch pad and bent over it, dashing at the tears on her face, hoping he wouldn’t be able to catch the way she was blushing at the thought of kissing him, or the silly tears, or the fact that she was pretending. She glanced up through wet and spiky lashes. Did he have to be so utterly gorgeous?
He flashed her a grin and her heart immediately felt as though it skipped a beat. His smile faded and she hastily looked down at her blank sketch pad. He stepped closer and caught her chin between his finger and thumb, seemingly completely unaware of personal space. Tipping her head up, he studied her face.
His other hand came up, fingers moving with exquisite gentleness, and brushed at the tears, and then followed the tracks down her cheeks. “What made you cry, little lightning bug?”
A million thoughts crowded in. It wasn’t his business. A sarcastic reply. A joke. Anything but the truth. Jonquille didn’t say any of those things. “I heard a cry like a child in distress and for some reason it brought the past too close. I don’t usually allow myself to go backward like that, but the memories just swept over me before I could shut that door.”
Rubin brushed his hand very gently down the back of her hair and it felt too much like caring. When she was really little, the older girls had brushed her hair and treated her like a little doll, but then the buildup of energy had begun and they couldn’t do that anymore. She’d watched them brush each other’s hair and she’d been envious. She’d tried very hard not to be, but she couldn’t help it. Having Rubin just use his palm and sweep his hand over the back of her scalp so gently tore at her heart. She didn’t know what to do with that kind of gesture.
Jonquille knew she wasn’t a woman who would ever have a home and family. This gentle, brilliant man whom Whitney had paired her with had the soul of a healer, the intellect of an Einstein and the fierceness of a warrior. He was everything a woman like Jonquille could possibly want or need yet could never have. She wanted to scream at the universe for such a betrayal.
“We all have those moments, Jonquille. I have them every single time I first arrive at the cabin. I remember each loss I suffered here and wish I had a do-over. I was a kid and doubt I would be able to change the outcome, but I always think I somehow would be wiser.”
“Why do we do that to ourselves?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart, but everyone does it.”
He bent his head and her heart pounded. His lips were soft as he brushed kisses over her eyelids and along the tracks her tears had taken. “I love this time of the day. Sunset. Sunrise. Magical times. There’s a reason those times are magical.”
“You’re supposed to be catching up on your sleep.” Her brain was short-circuiting. That was all she could think to say because tenderness lit his dark eyes and sent her temperature soaring. There were sparks, and none of it had to do with electrical energy.