The meteorite’s landing pit appeared right where it had been the night before, and it looked exactly the same. But like the thing was a snowbank that was going to melt after hours of being in the sunlight?
At the lip of the impact site, he stared down into the three-foot-deep hole in the earth. Everything was scored from heat, the fallen pine needles and ground scruff burned away, the earth blackened inside the carve-out. Standing this close, he could catch a whiff of the burn-off still, though it was faint.
Where had the meteorite gone? Had it imploded on impact?
Looking up, he searched the sky overhead. So many stars . . . and he had a thought that maybe Earth was like a target at a county fair, celestial beings holding corn dogs aiming things at the glowing blue marble in hopes of winning a stuffed animal.
When that hypothetical made him worry about the mass-extinction event that knocked off the dinosaurs, he searched the trunks and branches of the forest. And the longer he tried to find what was not there, the more he was able to picture the female from the night before, that blond hair, the hooded coat, the darting eyes—
The snap of the stick behind him had him spinning around.
For a moment, he didn’t think what he was seeing was real. He just figured his brain had coughed up a three-dimensional version of what he’d been dreaming of all day long. But then he caught the scent.
Her scent.
And as the complex interplay of absolutely-wonderful entered his nose, he felt transported even though his body never moved.
“It’s you,” he whispered with wonder.
Upstairs, on the second floor of the little cottage, Sahvage went back to the guest room that faced out front. Lifting up the panels he’d just shut, he peered out at the overgrown yard. With the lights off behind him, he was able to see the night clearly through the old, bubbly glass panes.
Nothing was moving. Not around the maple tree. Down the lane. Through the brambles and the tangled veins.
Bending low, he tried to see if the stars—
They were back out. Like a storm had come through and passed by.
He thought of that shadow entity and knew in his bones what was going on—yet he wanted to deny it. After all these years, he had thought that that part of his life was over. Done with. Never to cross the path of his destiny again.
Sahvage rubbed his face. He didn’t want to think about the past. Revisiting that shit in his mind was not the kind of stroll down memory lane he was looking to take—
“Are you okay?”
The words, softly spoken behind him, made him want to jump. But he caught himself and turned around smoothly to face the female who was like a bad penny to him.
Then again, he was the idiot who’d shown up on her front doorstep, so who was the evil one cent’er, here? And even though she no doubt would have been offended, he couldn’t stop from checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Again. But nothing appeared injured: She wasn’t limping and he couldn’t smell any blood.
And she sure as hell was staring up at him with totally clear, direct eyes.
That were actually . . . pretty damn attractive. He’d never thought about what color iris he preferred in a female. Attributes below the neck had been his sole focus when he’d been so inclined. But now?
He liked hazel eyes best. Unwavering, intelligent . . . hazel eyes that looked up at him like she was expecting him to justify the space he took up and the air he breathed by being a stand-up guy. Rather than a coldblooded killer.
“Are you okay?” the female repeated as she waved her arms in front of him like she was in a crowd and trying to get his attention.
No worries there, sweetheart, he thought as he reclosed the shutter. You could be standing in the back of a hundred thousand and I’d find you.
“Everything’s great.” He nodded around the dusty room. “All locked into place.”
The female hesitated in the doorway. Her blond-and-brown hair had frizzed up out of the ponytail she had it in, and her cheeks were flushed. Her hands were also shaking, and the instant he noticed, she crossed her arms and tucked them away.
And he wasn’t surprised as she lifted her chin.
“Downstairs, too,” she announced. “We’re fine there as well.”
Sahvage would have smiled. Under different circumstances. “Just curious. What exactly is your definition of ‘not fine.’”
“None of your business—”
“I just realized something. I don’t even know your name. Considering we’ve been all about the life and death for two nights in a row, don’t you think it’s time we make a formal acquaintance? Or are you going to tell me that’s none of my business, either.”