God's Eye by A.J. Scudiere Page A

away for a bit to gather his thoughts into something coherent. He’d imagined going alone to the little burger stand at the end of the street, but he’d told her he wanted something green to counteract the imaginary stomach upset of earlier. So he didn’t know where to go.
    She took pity on him. “How about Salami’s? They have great salads and lots of green veggies. It’s only a block away.”
    Katharine had already started out the door and toward the elevator when he nodded in agreement, throwing on his own jacket and straightening his tie. His feet sped up in an attempt to catch up to her. But she was easy to find. Colors, thrown from her thoughts and feelings, followed her down the hall, leading to where he found her–standing at the elevator bank, having pushed the call button, and waiting for him.
    At this time of day, the hallways were virtually empty and he had Katharine to himself in the elevator. He didn’t want to read her, didn’t want to know what she’d done with Zachary the night before. It was bad enough that he had to see her feelings coming through the office door before he saw her; he didn’t need graphic memories of touch to accompany them. But he did need to read her.
    And he needed–desperately–to keep it together when he did. There could be no more errors like this morning. He had a good idea what he’d see when he looked: memories that showed him just how far Zachary had come and just how much he, Allistair, was losing. He was as upset that he wasn’t the one Katharine chose as he was at falling behind in the game. Bracing himself for the onslaught, he let the back of his hand casually brush against hers.
    It was a good thing he’d braced himself, but he still wasn’t prepared for what came.
    Though her gaze stayed straight ahead and her stance was steady, her thoughts wandered all over him. There wasn’t a trace of Zachary anywhere. It was as though she had shed him as thoroughly as her night-clothes; Allistair’s rival was nowhere to be found in Katharine’s mind. It was Allistair himself that occupied Katharine’s thinking. She thought he looked better after his bout of stomach flu this morning. She’d worried about him all day. She was disappointed with an employee named Mary, but Allistair was arrested more by the fact that Katharine found him compelling than by anything else going through her brain.
    She thought him handsome. Attractive. Admired his work ethic this morning and liked the way he held himself. Allistair held himself a little straighter. From that single touch, mostly because he’d been looking for it, she had poured herself into him. And it was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Maybe it was because he was stronger than the last time he’d tried that on a human. Maybe it was because her thoughts were about him. Whatever it was, it was heady, and he wanted–needed–another shot of it.
    The elevator slowed, but they were still a handful of floors up. The last thing he wanted to deal with was another rider, but there was nothing he could do about it. Spontaneous combustion of a Light & Geryon employee wasn’t in the playbook. Katharine smiled and stepped back as a woman stepped through the silver doors dragging a small crate on wheels stuffed with papers. The newcomer was too busy looking him up and down to prevent the wheels from dropping directly into the crack between the elevator and the floor.
    From the corner of his eye, Allistair saw Katharine dive for the button to keep the door open. He dove, too, covering her hand with his as though it were accidental. He enjoyed the feel of her skin beneath his. Human contact was something that was supposed to happen only when necessary, but he’d always craved it when in form. Katharine’s thoughts did nothing to curb his addiction.
    This time he was prepared for, hoping for, the want. After the initial lightning bolt of touch, it flooded him–pictures, thoughts, feelings, all rushing from Katharine