signs of levity. “You need to let it go, baby.”
Her soft murmur went straight through him, giving him a glimpse into the depths of her gentle woman’s heart and the steel of her backbone. It made him shudder in awe and realization.
He knew why it was that he couldn’t hurt Xevera any more than he could hurt his mother.
His empathy was too strong to allow him to hurt or kill another living being, even if that being was a distant cousin of his rapist father.
Before this moment, like her parents, he had considered his mother’s kindness a weakness. But now, he realized that kindness was her strength, what kept her going, what made her go through with having him when a lesser woman would have caved to the pressure of her parents and aborted him.
“He hurt you,” he whispered, lamely trying to defend his grudge, still looking for a reason to reject Xevera’s innocence and his feelings for her.
“But Xevera didn’t.”
“I swore that one day I would get the thing that violated you.
She’s the best opportunity I have of doing that.”
“Michael, if I can forgive him, you can.”
He stared at her, seeing what all the men and women in the soup kitchens where she’d volunteered through the years, and hospitals where she’d worked as a nurse, must have seen: pure goodness.
“Have you forgiven him, Mom?”
She reached out a hand to cup a whiskered cheek. “A long time ago and every time I look at your beautiful face.”
88
Gracie C. McKeever
Chapter 9
Six hours after the encounter with his mother, Michael was still shaken, awash with emotions he could neither deal with nor deny. He was, however, looking forward to going home as he had never before, even if the root of his confusion was there, waiting in one gorgeous and shapely raisin-brown offering.
Like most EMS workers he was dedicated. He wanted to help people and worked twelve and fourteen-hour shifts as a norm. But he never let himself get as bad as some EMTs who literally lived out of their cars and avoided home like the plague, staying away for days at a time. A lot of those same colleagues were either addicted to the job, lived solitary lives or were among the job’s astounding number of divorcees.
Michael didn’t want that for himself. He knew what he wanted his priorities to be and living, eating and sleeping EMS only to die a young, bitter lonely man wasn’t among them. Not to mention after that little stunt Xevera had pulled earlier on that ‘bridge’ in their minds, he had more reason than any mortal man to want to get home and begin working on his priorities.
The job was exciting and most times rewarding, but there was no substitute for a home and a family.
He wouldn’t even go the next step and consider love. He was having a hard enough time considering settling down with someone not of his world and not of his kind, much less falling in love with her.
Michael found a parking space in front of his building and sat for a moment glancing up at the front windows. As expected, he found Sentinel’s Hunger
89
Mrs. Knowles peeking out at him from behind the edge of a window curtain.
He grinned as he unlatched his seatbelt, got out of his SUV, and activated the alarm.
He watched the curtain drop into place as he climbed the outside steps and imagined Mrs. Knowles scurrying back into her apartment to warn her husband that the degenerate was home.
Impulsively, he reached out to touch her mind, careful not to alert her of his presence as he brushed just below the surface of her brain.
He found her mind resistant, but still accessible.
She’d been in his apartment while he was out!
Michael took the last several stairs at a sprint, burst through the outside glass doors into the vestibule, and rushed upstairs to his apartment three steps at a time.
The door was locked and he gave Mrs. Knowles her props for being an attentive and courteous spy.
Michael unlocked the door and paused on the threshold.
“Xevera?”
She came out of
Her soft murmur went straight through him, giving him a glimpse into the depths of her gentle woman’s heart and the steel of her backbone. It made him shudder in awe and realization.
He knew why it was that he couldn’t hurt Xevera any more than he could hurt his mother.
His empathy was too strong to allow him to hurt or kill another living being, even if that being was a distant cousin of his rapist father.
Before this moment, like her parents, he had considered his mother’s kindness a weakness. But now, he realized that kindness was her strength, what kept her going, what made her go through with having him when a lesser woman would have caved to the pressure of her parents and aborted him.
“He hurt you,” he whispered, lamely trying to defend his grudge, still looking for a reason to reject Xevera’s innocence and his feelings for her.
“But Xevera didn’t.”
“I swore that one day I would get the thing that violated you.
She’s the best opportunity I have of doing that.”
“Michael, if I can forgive him, you can.”
He stared at her, seeing what all the men and women in the soup kitchens where she’d volunteered through the years, and hospitals where she’d worked as a nurse, must have seen: pure goodness.
“Have you forgiven him, Mom?”
She reached out a hand to cup a whiskered cheek. “A long time ago and every time I look at your beautiful face.”
88
Gracie C. McKeever
Chapter 9
Six hours after the encounter with his mother, Michael was still shaken, awash with emotions he could neither deal with nor deny. He was, however, looking forward to going home as he had never before, even if the root of his confusion was there, waiting in one gorgeous and shapely raisin-brown offering.
Like most EMS workers he was dedicated. He wanted to help people and worked twelve and fourteen-hour shifts as a norm. But he never let himself get as bad as some EMTs who literally lived out of their cars and avoided home like the plague, staying away for days at a time. A lot of those same colleagues were either addicted to the job, lived solitary lives or were among the job’s astounding number of divorcees.
Michael didn’t want that for himself. He knew what he wanted his priorities to be and living, eating and sleeping EMS only to die a young, bitter lonely man wasn’t among them. Not to mention after that little stunt Xevera had pulled earlier on that ‘bridge’ in their minds, he had more reason than any mortal man to want to get home and begin working on his priorities.
The job was exciting and most times rewarding, but there was no substitute for a home and a family.
He wouldn’t even go the next step and consider love. He was having a hard enough time considering settling down with someone not of his world and not of his kind, much less falling in love with her.
Michael found a parking space in front of his building and sat for a moment glancing up at the front windows. As expected, he found Sentinel’s Hunger
89
Mrs. Knowles peeking out at him from behind the edge of a window curtain.
He grinned as he unlatched his seatbelt, got out of his SUV, and activated the alarm.
He watched the curtain drop into place as he climbed the outside steps and imagined Mrs. Knowles scurrying back into her apartment to warn her husband that the degenerate was home.
Impulsively, he reached out to touch her mind, careful not to alert her of his presence as he brushed just below the surface of her brain.
He found her mind resistant, but still accessible.
She’d been in his apartment while he was out!
Michael took the last several stairs at a sprint, burst through the outside glass doors into the vestibule, and rushed upstairs to his apartment three steps at a time.
The door was locked and he gave Mrs. Knowles her props for being an attentive and courteous spy.
Michael unlocked the door and paused on the threshold.
“Xevera?”
She came out of
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