Page 58 of Enchanted Hero
“There they are!” The rescuers had boarded the ship and were sprinting across the deck. As the family rushed to meet them, Alexander pivoted, yet there was no clear path to escape. If he reentered the boat, the rescuers would follow, endangering their lives. He could teleport, yet that would just confirm what he fought so hard to hide. A single option remained. He lunged toward the edge of the ship.
“Stop!” The rescuers ran after him, but they were too far and too late. He leapt over the railing and dived into the water.
He hit the water with a giant splash. Frigid liquid surrounded him, a shocking contrast to the heated boat. With his enhanced hearing, he could hear the divers preparing to jump in after him, a wasteful yet not dangerous exercise. He could escape by teleportation, but would his secret survive? If they already had him on sonar, he couldn’t vanish without effectively telling the world. Unless…
Underwater waves pounded him as the men splashed into the pool. Focusing his powers, he sent an electric wave, hopefully strong enough to jam the sensing devices, yet weak enough to not hurt anyone. Yet nothing could stop the men rapidly swimming in his direction. He tightened his muscles, called his power… and teleported.
* * * *
Everleigh awoke drenched in fear and sweat, images of burning boats and twisting tornados chilling her clammy body. For a moment, fantasy and reality mixed, and she chased elusive wakefulness, before remnants of the dream faded. She shifted in the feather soft mattress, pulled the silken covers higher. She traced the covers again and gasped.
It was not her cover.
Not her bed.
Not her home.
She shot up, scrambled out of the gigantic bed and onto the floor of an opulent bedroom the size of her apartment. How had she gotten into the burgundy-hued room, with its oversized walnut furniture, Oriental rugs and exquisite antiques? Sharp pain pierced her skull as dizziness and nausea swirled, and she gripped the bedpost.
Where was she?
The last thing she remembered was being locked in the bedroom of Alexander Stone’s yacht. She’d demanded he open the door again and again, but he never responded. She’d finally given up and plopped onto an oversized, plush recliner. Then she’d woken up here.
Her head ached, the pressure like a vise around her temples. She couldn’t actually blame that on Alexander, but on the copious amounts of alcohol she sipped, gulped and otherwise consumed before she’d eaten a trace of food. Such uncharacteristic behavior also explained why she fell asleep and stayed asleep while Alexander moved her. She wasn’t still on the boat, so obviously he’d taken her home.
Why hadn’t he woken her up? More importantly, why hadn’t he brought her toherhome?
The wine also explained other impossibilities, such as that kiss. In a foggy night, the kiss shone in vivid detail. Yet despite its extraordinariness, it could never happen again. Alexander Stone was far too dangerous, too mysterious, too dominating to lower her resolve. In her alcohol-fueled mind, she’d even linked him with the man in the tornado, as if he could possibly be some supernatural being.
She located her purse in the corner and removed her cell phone. It was already eleven o’clock in the morning – thank goodness it was a Saturday and not a workday. A news alert flashed, and she opened the link.
Impossible.
She read the news headline once and then a dozen times. There had been another “hero” sighting, and this time he’d saved a family from a boat fire, the same one from last night! He’d mysteriously appeared, garbed in the same black disguise, and rescued the passengers. Afterwards, he’d jumped into the water and disappeared – literally. At least no one could find him, despite an exhaustive search.
It was quite a coincidence – three hero sightings, all near her, all nearAlexander.
“Impossible,” she breathed to no one, as she grabbed her purse and strode to the door. She held her breath, exhaled when it opened easily. It led to the same hallway from the party, which appeared empty. She strode to Alexander’s bedroom, stopped with her hand poised on the knob.
Why should she wake him? She could leave quietly and catch up with him Monday morning. And if it meant she wouldn’t have to confront him about the kiss replaying for the thousandth time, that was simply a bonus. She strode past his door, stopped after two steps.
She pivoted to face the spacious corridor. Ornate doors lined the hall, hidden rooms with the potential to answer questions she could never ask. Mysteries had always fascinated her, and no matter what, Alexander Stone was definitely that. Of course, it would be completely inappropriate to investigate, yet it was also inappropriate to steal someone’s company.
She stepped toward the nearest door.
She tried the handle, couldn’t stop a thrill when it turned easily in her hand. She pushed it open, wider and wider–
“Can I help you?”
She jumped at the baritone voice of the man she knew so well. Alexander was calm, powerful and perfectly in control as he towered above her, his gaze penetrating. He wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt stretched taut against his broad chest, his muscular arms folded, his stance perfectly straight. He stepped forward, surrounding her with the scent of his spicy cologne.
How had he moved so silently? It was as if he appeared out of nowhere. “Where did you come from?”
“My room. I can move very quietly when I want to.”
“Like teleportation?” she blurted out.
His cool demeanor slipped, challenge burning in his brilliant eyes. A second later, he once again held perfect control. “Excuse me?”
