Healing Kiss, page 2
Lillian’s head swam, and she steadied herself against the bed to stay upright. Her sister was unconscious and weak but not dead. Not yet. And she wouldn’t die. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not if I can prevent it.
She pulled the blanket back and grasped Hannah’s limp hand in her own. She closed her eyes and centered her mind on the dark shape, which formed behind her eyelids. Hannah’s body. A small amount of orange light pulsed and glowed around her.
Now to make it grow.
Grow until it covered Hannah’s physical form. Until it overcame the virus in her system. Until her sister was no longer ill.
Lillian tightened her grasp on her sister’s hands and opened her mind, letting healing energy flow through her fingertips and into Hannah. With every breath, the dark shape in her mind grew smaller, and the orange halo grew wider and longer. But not enough to smother the darkness.
She let go of Hannah’s hands to swipe at the tears wetting her cheeks. No matter how many breaths she took, no matter how much she strained, no matter how long she tried, the orange light refused to spread to the size needed for true healing.
Tears came faster now, blinding her and soaking the blanket. A sob escaped her lips and she swallowed, releasing Hannah’s hands. She grabbed a tissue from the cube on the hospital table and blew her nose. Despair slid a cold hand down her neck. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Hannah was dying, and all Lillian could do was blubber like a baby.
She needed to do something, take some action, find someone with enough vitality to save Hannah’s life. But people with that much vitality were as rare as a perfectly cut blue diamond. And she needed such a large, continuous quantity of energy to heal Hannah, it would be almost impossible to absorb what she needed from the hospital workers. Still, she had to try.
She tossed the tissue into the wastebasket and strode toward the door. She’d load up on caffeine, and then she’d walk every wing in the hospital, test everyone she came in contact with, absorb whatever energy she could. Short of harming another, she would do whatever she had to do to cure her sister.
The moment she stepped into the hallway, fear and pain slammed into her gut. She leaned against the wall, clutching her middle and struggling for breath. There was only one reason she would feel such intense agony. Someone suffered nearby. Someone who matched her body chemistry. Someone she could heal quickly, with so little effort it wouldn’t impact her ability to heal Hannah.
She glanced at a room down the hall. The door was open, so she moved until she could see inside. A child lay in the bed, her thin arms on top of the blanket. Lillian figured she couldn’t be more than four or five years old. An IV was taped to one of the small hands, wrapped in white gauze and an Ace bandage.
She should leave. If she lingered, someone might see and wonder what she was doing in the girl’s room. Perhaps they’d call security, and she’d be questioned. But the girl gasped, and her suffering was a jolt to Lillian’s overworked heart. How could she ignore the child’s distress, knowing she could easily relieve her pain?
She moved toward the bed. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m here to help.”
In answer, the child whimpered, her eyes unfocused. Lillian placed a hand on the girl’s forehead and closed her eyes. Almost instantly, a dark shape formed in her mind’s eye. She breathed, and orange light surrounded the shape, lengthening and widening. The orange pulsed and swelled until it covered the darkness.
“Are you an angel?” a tiny voice squeaked.
Lillian popped her eyes open to meet the child’s puzzled gaze. Lillian smiled and withdrew her hand. “Just a friend. Do you feel better?”
The girl nodded and yawned. “Uh-huh.”
“Good. Sleep now. You’ll feel even better tomorrow. I promise.”
“Okay.” The child closed her eyes.
Lillian swiped a hand across the damp hair clinging to her forehead. A warm feeling moved through her body, soothing frazzled nerves, the after-effects of a successful healing. She’d like nothing more than to take a nap, too. But she couldn’t. She had work to do.
She turned toward the door. The man she’d seen earlier—she recognized his computer bag and his towering frame—leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest and one brow raised, like some sort of dark angel preparing to mete out punishment. She jumped back and let out a small shriek.
“What are you doing in here?”
Chapter Two
Oh my God.
Now that Lillian got a good look at the man’s face, she recognized him. He’d been on the local news for donating a large sum of money to the hospital. Some kind of rich computer geek. Not one of Kinetica’s men, thank God. At least she didn’t think so.
“I’m…I’m a nurse. The child was crying. I came to check on her.” She flapped a hand toward the bed, grateful the darkness in the room covered the sweat probably gleaming from her forehead. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get out of your way.”
This guy had a lot of clout. The last thing she needed was to have him asking about her at the nurse’s station or for her to be seen chatting with a local celebrity. For all she knew, reporters could be following him right now.
She made to brush by him, but he simply moved a step to the right, his large frame blocking the doorway and the fluorescent light from the hallway. His eyes locked with hers, pinning her under his dark gaze.
“You’re not dressed like a nurse. And you were hovering over the girl’s bed like you were performing an exorcism.”
With his wavy black hair, swarthy complexion, and broad shoulders, the man looked more like a spy ready for his next mission than a technology geek. He was even taller than she thought, and his eyes were black enough to blot her from existence.
Not a man to be ignored.
Lillian blinked and stepped backward, an annoying stab of fear in her stomach. If he was one of Kinetica’s men, he wouldn’t ask questions, she reminded herself. Kinetica struck first and asked questions later.
She kept as close to the truth as possible. “I’m not on duty. I was visiting with a…friend next door. I heard the little girl crying and went to investigate. That’s all. I didn’t mean to alarm you. She’s sleeping peacefully. I think her fever broke.”
She gestured behind her at the girl, and the man’s gaze shifted, giving her poor heart a momentary reprieve. She used the second to take a breath, but that’s all she managed before his hard gaze returned to hers.
“You work here?”
“No, not here.”
“Where?”
“Denver,” she fibbed, not daring to blink. She actually lived in Boston. But if there was one thing she’d become masterful at after two years of hiding, it was how to tell a believable lie. The secret was to veer from the truth only when necessary and never lose eye contact.
“What kind of nurse are you?”
“I’m an ER nurse.” She hadn’t worked in an ER since she’d left Cleveland, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I see.”
She flashed him the no-nonsense, attention-avoiding smile she’d perfected over the last two years. “If you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.”
This time when she moved forward, he paused for a moment before stepping aside. Thank goodness. But his footsteps sounded behind her. Damn. She didn’t need to look to know he followed. Damn, damn, damn. All she needed was a nosy, rich computer guy asking questions. She moved toward the elevator.
“Do you always close your eyes when feeling a patient’s forehead?” He had come up on the right side of her, his deep voice vibrating her insides.
Go away, Computer Guy. She stabbed at the down button outside the elevator. “Sometimes. When I don’t have a thermometer handy.”
The elevator opened, and he stepped inside, placing one hand on the door to keep it from closing. She had no choice but to follow him. Unless she wanted to create a scene, which she did not.
“Lobby?”
At her nod, he pressed the glowing L on the panel. “What’s wrong with your friend?”
She watched the elevator doors close, nearly tearing her hair out at their agonizing slowness. “She’s sick.”
No need to panic. The elevator hummed as it moved toward their destination. The cafeteria and the exit were on the main floor. It made sense he’d head that direction, too.
“I kind of figured. Being that she’s in a hospital and all.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Freedom. But he followed close on her heels. “What’s the matter with her?”
She kept walking. Her stomach tingled like he had the power to expose her secrets. The tingle widened, expanded, lengthened until she couldn’t stop a shiver. She looked around at the cafeteria. The main section was closed, but a few people sat in the lounge where you could still get snacks and beverages. One of them looked up. Ugh. Already they were attracting attention.
She stopped walking, and he did, too.
She lowered her voice. “She has a virus.”
Under the bright lights, his eyes were dark blue, not black. Although she wouldn’t label him gorgeous, he was far from a geek. More like a confident tycoon—a suspicious one.
He lifted an eyebrow, as if to add an exclamation point to her thought.
“If you’ll excuse me, I want to grab a coffee and get back to my friend’s room.” Lillian edged around the man and toward the coffee station. The high tinkle of a woman’s laugh sounded behind her.
“Tristan King, I thought that was you. I didn’t know you were coming back here this late in the day. Don’t you have a party starting in a few hours?”
Tristan King; so that was his name.
Lillian glanced at the woman, who stopped in front of Tristan. She had high cheekbones and long red hair pulled into a sleek ponytail and wore a navy dress with an open neckline and cream-colored heels. Something about her polished, model look made Lillian suspect the woman was used to attracting attention.
The woman placed a slim hand with French-manicured nails on Tristan’s chest and removed a piece of non-existent lint from his black shirt. Tristan’s expression didn’t change, but somehow Lillian sensed his laser focus. Whoever this lady was, she was important to him.
Now was the perfect time to make her escape. Lillian took a step, but a long arm snaked around hers, pulling her backward, so she nearly tumbled into him.
He caught her, his hands snagging in her hair. “Not so fast.” Tristan smiled down at her, softening his harsh features. He winked, the movement so quick, she might have imagined it.
He turned to the lady. “Hello, Angelina.” Tristan’s sounded bored. “The fundraiser is still on. I only came to visit a friend. I’m heading out now.”
Angelina ignored Lillian, leaning in close to whisper in Tristan’s ear and giving him a good frontal view of her chest. Lillian could only imagine what she said. A promise of what might happen after the party?
Tristan wrapped his arm around Lillian’s shoulder and tucked her into his side. He smelled of the sea and something else, something otherworldly, something magical, like tall evergreens under a full moon in a fierce winter snowstorm. He tilted his head and angled his face toward hers. His dark blue eyes were the night sky, swallowing her whole.
My God, what was happening?
And then she felt it. It began where his fingers grazed her arm, traveled along her spine, caressed sensitive nerve endings, and ignited a shivering, shaking, blazing trail through her entire body. White-hot scorching energy lit the space between them. His warm breath caressed her skin.
So energetic. So thrilling. So full of life.
Lillian stood transfixed under the enchanted spell he cast. Excitement curled and unfolded in her veins. She’d found a burner—the term her mother used to describe someone with immense vitality. Someone with so much natural power, he vibrated with it. Someone who could cure a room full of invalids if he’d let her.
Someone she could use to cure Hannah.
“Who’s this?” Angelina asked, finally giving Lillian an ounce of her attention.
Lillian didn’t answer. All she could manage was to lean against Tristan’s side so she wouldn’t collapse in a warm puddle at his feet.
“My date for tonight’s party,” Tristan said, his tone smooth, as if he hadn’t just set her whole body on fire and left her a helpless lump of hot coal.
“Oh, I see. I didn’t realize you had a date.” Angelina shot her a dirty look. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take care of a few matters. I’ll see you at the party.”
“Of course,” Tristan said, his gaze following Angelina’s retreating form before returning to Lillian. He removed his arm from her shoulder. “I’m sorry I had to do that. Angelina won’t take no for an answer. I needed to take drastic measures to get the message across. Thanks for playing along.”
“You didn’t give me much choice.”
His grin changed his features from interrogator to co-conspirator. “There wasn’t time—I had to improvise. But I’m grateful. May I get you a coffee?” He gestured toward a line of pots. “What’s your name?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Zoey…Zoey Mills.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
He handed her a cup of coffee, and when she reached for it, a tingling sensation moved between them again. Did he feel it, too?
She clutched the Styrofoam cup like it held liquid courage. “Thanks. Why don’t you come with me…to meet her? It’s the least you can do after I played along with your little ruse.”
He tilted his head and studied her, eyes shuttered. She resisted the urge to tap her feet and instead took a sip of coffee. Say yes, say yes, say yes.
“I can’t. I am hosting a fundraiser at my house”—he checked his watch—“in less than an hour. I kind of have to be there.” He pulled a pen from his bag and nabbed a napkin from the coffee bar, then scribbled his address and handed it to Lillian. “Feel free to come by later if you need a break.”
His voice did strange things to her insides, and her pulse raced where their fingers brushed, so she almost dropped the napkin. She couldn’t let him leave. Not without first seeing Hannah. “Please, it will only take a minute. You’ll have plenty of time to get to your party afterward. I promise.”
A flash of puzzlement crossed his face before something buzzed in his pocket, distracting him, and he slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out his phone. Whatever he read on the screen wasn’t good news. His whole demeanor changed, all the light and animation leaving his face at once.
“What is it?”
“An emergency. I have to go.” He took off at a fast pace toward the exit.
All Lillian could do was stare after him, clutching the cup of coffee in one hand and the crumpled napkin in the other.
Chapter Three
Tristan drove his car to the Gates Mills community he called home. He was several hours late to his own party, but at least his mom was going to be okay. She’d taken a spill walking to the mailbox and had a golf-ball-sized bump on the back of her head and a concussion but no broken bones this time. Thank God.
He stretched his fingers, loosening his white-knuckle grip on the wheel. It’d been quite a scare getting the call about her. Two months ago, she’d tripped over her feet while making coffee in the kitchen and fractured both wrists. Only last week, her casts had been removed. And now this.
He drove through the security gate, up the long driveway and around the stone fountain, passing the paved lot filled with cars where the hired valet had left them. He circled the grand front entrance and parked at the back of the estate, hurrying through the private side entrance. The decorators and caterers had been hard at work since this morning, and the hostess he’d hired for the occasion would have greeted his guests and explained his tardiness. He had only to slip on his tuxedo and join the party.
He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the master bedroom on the second floor and switched on the light. His outfit for the evening lay across the monstrous king-size bed as instructed. Black slacks and jacket, crisp white button-down shirt, shiny Italian leather loafers. He fingered the sleek material, a reflection of the wealth he’d received after selling his computer software company—was it only a little over a year ago? While he enjoyed the perks that came with money, he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the dramatic shift in his finances.
He straightened, crossing to the master bathroom and flicking on the light. His entire childhood bedroom could have fit in the cavernous space at least twice over. Glistening marble tile covered the walls and floor, and a massive whirlpool tub with shiny gold fixtures sat in the center of the large room, courtesy of a recent six-figure renovation. No expense had been spared to achieve perfection. But tonight, his gut twisted at the opulence.
If only his money could transform his mother from the faded ghost she now was into the bright, vibrant woman he remembered. If only the research firms he gave millions to could find a cure for Huntington’s, the disease slowly killing his mom. If only he believed in miracles.
He ripped his shirt off, tossed it on the floor, and stared at his face in the mirror above the sink. Same features he’d always had. Same dark whiskers. Same stubborn jawline. Nothing had changed. And yet his reflection seemed different tonight. He felt different.
He found his electric razor and plugged it in. It was the encounter with Angelina that had him so off-kilter. A year and a half ago, they’d been in love. He’d given her a diamond ring and the promise of his name and fidelity for the rest of his life. The engagement lasted nearly a month before she broke it off. She said she didn’t want a man who couldn’t give her children.
He ran the razor across the stubble on his chin, wishing he didn’t still feel the biting pain of her dismissal as if it were yesterday. He had tried everything to convince her to change her mind, even agreeing to adopt a child one day. None of it mattered.
