A Fistful of Dreams Read online

  She wanted to argue that she was perfectly capable of helping, but she ceded the battle. “No problem. Made coffee and water for porridge.”

  “Can you feel this?” Jason pinched her foot and she jerked at the pain.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He wrapped a blanket around her legs and tucked it in next to her feet. “Let me get you some coffee and then we’ll adjust the hay. I think we need to shrink the circle to keep more heat in around her.”

  A bruise mottled his jaw, dark and angry.

  “What happened to your face?” He hadn’t been bruised up the night before. Was something wrong with one of the horses?

  “Ran into a post in the dark.” He waved off her concern. “I’ll live.”

  The two men worked efficiently and finished the breakfast she intended to make for them. Neither ate until she had half a cup of coffee and most of her porridge devoured. They shuttled the hay until they built a fort closer to the fire and the air around her warmed up. Little by little her body came back up to a normal temperature.

  “How does your head feel?” Buck sat down, lifting her legs and settling her chilly feet on his lap before re-wrapping them back in the blanket.

  “Achy still. I dreamed about you last night.” Only it hadn’t been a dream. It felt like a dream and it was almost as elusive as one this morning. She half-remembered the images and the feelings. They’d talked and she—“Oh no. I sang.”

  “And I’m fine.” He rubbed her feet through the blanket, slow, even strokes. “You sang a beautiful song and you didn’t do anything to me.”

  She stared at him. “Really?”

  “Really.” He nodded, a slow smile creasing his lips. “I said you could do it.”

  “But how?” The dull, aching thud in her head redoubled in force. She really did feel full—and odd.

  “You said your head was aching.” Buck glanced at Jason. The telepath perched on a hay bale a couple of feet away from the hearth, eating a bowl of porridge. “I—we—think you need to let it out. You need to sing and to let your gift loose. He wants to watch what you do when you do it and then again when you release me.”

  Would they ever stop asking her to risk his life? His sanity? “You don’t understand. It’s not something I can keep turning on and off.” Tightening her grip on the tin mug, she tried to let the heat leach into her fingers. “Some people really do go crazy. The man who left me in Fort Courage tried to kill me when I let him go. He hated me. If not for the locals there, I think he would have succeeded. He strangled me until I blacked out. I woke up to Antonia taking care of me. She told me they had to shoot him.”

  Even when Father took her to the same towns, she rarely saw the same people over and over and, even for those she did see, the limited exposure seemed to diminish the backlash. She’d already held sway over Buck once, no matter how inadvertently. He misdirected his anger at Jason, but it wasn’t Jason’s fault. It was hers.

  “Tell us about what you did to the man who tried to kill you.” Jason ordered quietly. “How long did you compel him?”

  “He was on the train, I met him Kansas City. That was as far as I got before I was told my ticket wasn’t any good. I was very low on funds, but I finally gave in and spoke to the conductor and he allowed me to stay on. The man rode in the same car and he overhead the discussion. He offered to pay part of my way.” She wasn’t proud of this. The man’s glazed eyes betrayed his captivated condition, but she needed the help.

  “So, you took his money. You needed the help.”

  She heard no judgment in Buck’s voice. “Yes, but I didn’t know where else to go. When he explained there were places in the west you could lose yourself, I thought it was as good as any. He offered to help me secure passage on a stagecoach and then he went with me. I didn’t mean for him to go, but he knew so much more about the territory.”

  “How did you maintain your control over him?” Jason leaned forward, his blue gaze intent on her.

  “I talked to him. I sang to him whenever he started to refocus on where he was. Sometimes it happened when the stagecoach took breaks in little towns along the way—and once when we were actually on the trail.”

  “And the other passengers?” Buck gave her foot a little squeeze. “Weren’t they affected?”

  “There weren’t any. Well, not after one of the towns we went through. There were only five of us to begin with. Three got off in various towns and then it was just Phillip and me.” She knew his name and she knew where he was from. Someday, if she ever got up the courage, she would find his family and apologize. The man did something nice for her and she twisted it. Her gut cramped and she avoided their gazes. This was the ugly side of her gift. She didn’t think they could understand.

  “What happened when he tried to kill you?”

  “Jason.” Buck snapped, but the telepath waved him off.

  “I know it’s not pretty. But we need to know. If she’s going to drive you insane, then our teaching method has flaws.”

  “We arrived at Fort Courage. The stagecoach didn’t go any further. Phillip asked around town and found out the only way to get through the mountains was to hire a wagon and a guide. He had some money left, but not enough. He was starting to get a little crazed about how to get me west and he had a gun…he was going to rob someone to get the money. I told him it wasn’t necessary, but he was not really hearing me anymore. I needed to go west and he was going to do whatever it took.” Her voice shook. She could still see his eyes rolling in his head and the sweat on his brow. “I knew if I could sing someone into doing what I wished, I could sing them free—so I did it.”

  And the transformation—shock and outrage crossed Phillip’s face—and rage. He screamed at her and all the frustration he’d demonstrated toward trying to achieve what she wanted exploded at her. “He yelled I had ruined his life and he would take from me what I took from him…that’s pretty much all I remember before I woke up to Antonia. I couldn’t speak hardly at all for weeks my throat was so sore. She told me later they had to shoot him to get him off me.” No, she would not do that to Buck. Daring to look up, she met his gaze and couldn’t believe the sympathy there. “I can’t stand the thought of doing the same thing to you.”

  “I don’t think you will.” Jason mused aloud.

  “And why do you think that?” Buck caught her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. She wanted to curl up next to him, like she had the night before and lean on him. It was hardly appropriate then, much less now.

  “One, Delilah was desperate on the train. She was in unfamiliar territory. She didn’t know anyone and she had no idea how to turn off her influence. It was literally a matter of life and death.” Jason scratched the stubble on his chin. “Coupled with taking a stranger hundreds of miles away from his intended destination, I can see where it messed him up.”

  “Makes sense. You know me. And I want you to do it. Those are already two major differences.” Buck agreed.

  Delilah stared at them both. “No. I’m not going to do it. It’s not safe.”

  “You don’t really have a choice. Sooner or later you need to release the valve on your ability and we need to know you can control it or you’re going to spend your life running and fighting the urges, which is not an acceptable result.” If Jason had a shred of compassion in him, he didn’t share it with her.

  Buck nodding his agreement stunned her more. “He’s right. You’re done running, starting here. You trusted me this far. Trust me a little farther. Let’s get this under control together.”

  “Or you can keep fighting us on this and when you slip, because you will slip, you’ll force us to deal with you.” The cold assessment chilled her worse than the snow. She stared at Jason, not daring to look at Buck. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more, the thought he would leap to her defense, or that he would agree with Jason.

  Chapter 13

  The implicit threat hung in the air. Jason warned him, seconds before he issued it. They’d coaxed
, they’d comforted, and they’d extended the hand of friendship, but her resistance lay deeply seated in fear. After hearing the story of “Phillip,” he had a better idea of why she was so resistant. Jason took a harder tack, cornering her, and pushing her beyond Buck’s comfort level.

  If she lashes out, this is the moment she will. Patience. He didn’t share the same confidence. Not when she finally began to trust him. He did not want to create a greater divide than which they already surpassed.

  “You’re both insane.” She jerked her feet out of his grasp and tried to stand.

  Wait for it.

  He spared a glare toward Jason. The gloom inside the barn seemed somehow darker with her retreat. She huddled in the blankets, her bare feet trapping her close to the fire whether she wanted to be near him or not.

  “Shoot me.”

  Not the answer he sought. Jason remained impassive, staring down her defiance.

  “You heard me.” She stomped her foot. “Shoot me and get it over with. I will not hurt him. I don’t care what you threaten me with.” Her voice cascaded up, churning up his senses. The hair on Buck’s arms stood on end and a shiver of apprehension washed over him.

  The telepath maintained his silence, his gaze unwavering.

  “What are you waiting for?” Her voice climbed higher, cracking into the upper register. “Shoot me.” Power surged through it and, listening for it, Buck heard the moment her gift flooded into her voice.

  Thankfully, he didn’t have a gun or any desire to shoot her. Why was that? He frowned. If she wielded her gift, why wasn’t he compelled to shoot her?

  Excellent question.

  Folding his arms, Jason continued his staring game. Delilah finally looked away and sat back down. She closed her eyes, wrestling with the demons of her choices.

  I hope you’re right about this. The itch between his shoulder blades increased. He wanted to help. But she had to let them. A low tone echoed through the barn, a sound both solemn and soft. The hum rose in volume. Tension shivered over his skin and Jason released a harsh breath. The music in Delilah’s voice took on a magical quality and Buck forgot about their problems, the task at hand, or pushing her. Her song enchanted him.

  He didn’t recognize the words, or even the tune, but he didn’t need to know either to appreciate the music. The lyrics wrapped around him and he leaned closer, desperate to not miss a single note.

  Everything about her was so beautiful and graceful. She deserved so much more than what they’d delivered to her and they trapped her in this drafty barn in the middle of a winter storm—what had they been thinking?

  Fingers snapped in front of his face and Buck blinked. Jason replaced Delilah and she stood further back, her red-rimmed eyes wounding his heart. “Holy hell.” He exhaled.

  “Yes. But she let you go. How are you feeling?” Jason crouched, holding his gaze longer than necessary.

  “I’m fine.” Tilting his head, he looked past Jason to meet her gaze. “And no, I don’t want to kill you.”

  She gave a shaky little laugh. “I don’t want to keep doing this. Can’t we find a way to turn it off?”

  “I don’t know of a way to destroy a gift.” Whether Jason knew of one or not, his hard-edged answers weren’t what she needed. “But you controlled it. I didn’t attack anyone…” He glanced at Jason, other than the bruised face he gave him the night before, he didn’t see any fresh injuries.

  “No.” The telepath rose and beckoned Delilah back over to the fire. “I got a better look at what you do, but we may need a few more tries to lock it down.”

  Buck held out his hand to her as she padded closer. She stared at it and him, sorrow in her expression. “It’s okay,” he crooked his fingers, hoping like hell she would take his hand. Her fingers were icy, but she slid her palm against his and he tugged her closer, urging her to sit right next to him. “We knew this would be hard. It would take practice.”

  “You didn’t see your face…it’s like all the personality drains away and you become a vessel, waiting to be told what to do.”

  “Doesn’t feel the way.” It didn’t feel that way. The thought circled around in his mind, as though chasing an elusive tail.

  “How does it feel?” Jason stacked their dishes together. Apparently, they’d all finished their meal after the song. How much time actually passed?

  “I just want to be near her.” Squeezing her hand, Buck focused on her. “Which is not a lot different from how I feel anyway. But everything else fades away. It’s you and me and I don’t care about the rest of the world.” That was how it felt. Even when Jason appeared in her dream, his feelings were what concerned Buck the most. He didn’t want to hear ideas or concepts and if her desire to flee meant he was compelled to do what she wanted, wouldn’t he have already tried to help her escape? Did it mean she didn’t want to run away or…? The thoughts nibbled through his mind, one after the other. They were missing something—something crucial. “How does your head feel?”

  “Better, sadly.”

  “Why sadly?” He waved Jason quiet when the man opened his mouth. Buck wanted her response.

  “Because it means you’re right. I have to use it, I can’t figure out how to not use it and then never use it again.” Defeat sagged her shoulders.

  “No, it means you’re going to need time away from others now and then to let it loose. You practiced alone when you lived wherever—you can do it again here. Scarlett goes out to the bathing ponds at least once a week and sets the water on fire. So we carve out a space for you to let your voice free. Easy.” A relatively simplistic solution, but the most elegant answers didn’t need to be complicated.

  “And if someone comes along?”

  “Then we deal with it.”

  “And if we can’t?” She argued.

  “We can.” He chuckled.

  “It’s not funny.” Anger brightened the dull sadness in her eyes and the color in her cheeks deepened.

  He liked her temper. It reminded him she wasn’t broken or defenseless. If anything, she possessed the ability to defend herself against any enemy. If she learned to wield it properly, she would always be safe.

  That knowledge brought him the first real comfort he’d experienced since Jason revealed her connection to the mysterious MacPherson.

  “It is a little funny.” He had to bite back another laugh at her irritated expression.

  “How is it, in any way, funny?” She tried to pull her hand away, but he caught it and pulled it back. Pressing a kiss to her cold fingertips, he couldn’t contain a smile.

  “You keep telling us what you can’t do and how you don’t know and what you’re afraid will happen. And yet, you’ve managed to talk to us for hours and never once unleash your gift. You were furious with us for pushing and Jason threatened you. You could have pointed me at him to attack and I’d have done it, happily.”

  Thanks.

  He ignored Jason’s droll reply, keeping his focus on Delilah. “But you didn’t. You didn’t do any of those things. When we figured out what was going on, you had plenty of time to figure out a plan and run. You could have manipulated any number of people here, including those with the ability to make sure you got out of here your way. You didn’t. It’s funny you’re worried about how we’re going to react when you are doing exactly what we asked you to do.”

  “This time it was all right, what if it’s not next time? What if next time you go crazy because I keep using my song on you?” She worried for him. All of her resistance, her arguments, and her fear focused on him.

  I think I’ll go be somewhere else…

  Buck barely noticed Jason walking away. His amusement fled in the face of that realization. Holding her hands in his, he leaned forward and locked gazes. “Maybe I wasn’t clear the first time we talked about this. I know you don’t have a lot of experience with men or people in general. I know everyone you’ve ever had contact with tried to use you in some fashion and you think you’re a tool, a weapon and they succee
ded in making you afraid of yourself.” He pulled her closer, sliding a hand up to cup her cheek so she wouldn’t look away. “I’m none of those people. I know what you can do and I respect your power. But I respect you more. I respect your strength, your perseverance and your determination to do the right thing—no matter what it costs you personally. You are not alone, Delilah. Not anymore.”

  “But…”

  “No, buts.” He shook his head slowly. “No conditions. Every person you’ve ever made feel any way about you or controlled didn’t give a damn about you personally. I do. I’m not going anywhere. I am exactly where I want to be.”

  She covered his hand on her cheek with her own, her gaze searching his. He didn’t know what she looked for and he didn’t have the words to break down years of emotional isolation and desperation.

  “I’ll tell you every single day if you need to hear it. I don’t care how long it takes. I care. I have cared for a long time.” He more than cared, but he didn’t think she was ready to hear how much.

  Yet.

  “I want to believe you,” she whispered. “You have no idea how much I want to believe you.”

  “It’s hard to have faith when so many have given you a reason to not believe. I am a patient man.” This was a lie; his patience where she was concerned seemed distinctly lacking. But there was one thing he could do and he could do it right now. Curving a hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her forward. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t resist.

  If you are listening—you interrupt this time and I will hit you till you bleed.

  Duly noted.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he told her. “If you don’t want me to, say so right now.”

  Surprise skittered across her expression, but she didn’t reject his statement. Giving her time to push him away, he closed the gap with excruciating slowness. Slanting his mouth against hers, he wanted to sigh at the velvet touch of her lips. He experimented with the lightest of brushes, teasing her mouth with his until her lips parted.

  Barely able to contain the whoop of joy in his soul, he pulled her into his arms and poured his affection into the kiss.