That she felt safe enough with him to share her secret filled with him gratitude, but he ached for the isolation she’d suffered. How could she have had no one she trusted enough to talk to? “What about your family?”
Against his chest, she shook her head. “My mom died before Dayton and I got married. He fooled her, too. She was so happy, relieved I’d found somebody who’d watch out for me. I think her relief that I had Dayton led to her letting go, deciding she could die. She’d been ill for a long time. My older sister and I have never been close. We rarely talk. I could have gone to her; she would have taken me in because I was family, but I didn’t go to her. I had friends, but after we married, Dayton insinuated himself into the friendships, separating me from them, and we drifted apart.
“In hindsight, I realize one of the reasons I never confided in anyone was because I was ashamed I stayed. I couldn’t bear the judgment for not taking steps to extricate myself. Unless you’re in a domestic violence situation, you can’t understand the psychological impact. It messes with your head. You get brainwashed into believing you can’t leave, you can’t take care of yourself, and no one else will want you.”
“No one would blame you! You were a victim.”
“People blame the victim all the time, assuming she made poor choices. They believe they would have extricated themselves when the relationship turned bad. But I’m done!” Her eyes flashed. “I’m finished being a victim. Any man who raises his hand to me or tells me I’m worthless gets his ass kicked to the curb. I’m done asking, ‘Mother, may I?’ I’m seizing control of my destiny. If there’s something I want, I’m going for it. I may not get it, but I’m damn sure going to try.” She touched the purple flowers in the vase on the counter. “Lavender Bliss Farm is my fresh start. It’s Kevanne Girardi 2.0—Girardi is my maiden name, by the way. I took my own name back after Dayton died.”
“So the farm wasn’t something you two owned together?”
“No.” She lifted her head, and her happy smile sent zings through his heart. “I bought it with his life insurance money. I’ve always loved lavender. I’d used lavender lotions and oils for years.”
He couldn’t stand what she’d suffered. If she’d been his mate, he would have protected her, cared for her, supported her dreams and aspirations.
She squeezed his waist then stepped out of his embrace. He missed the contact, but he relished the pride in her voice, when she swept her arms out. “This is mine. All mine. It doesn’t look like much now, but it will be something special.”
“It already is because you’re special. I saw the way people responded to you and your products at the fair.”
“And tomorrow is another day!” she said overly brightly.
He sensed an awkwardness now, as if she regretted sharing too much. He hoped she would share more. For his short time on Earth, he vowed to be her rock, steady and true. He couldn’t offer her forever, but he could offer her everything he had to give now.
“Hey.” He touched her elbow. “It’s okay. I’m humbled you shared your past with me.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “It stays with me. It won’t go any further. I’m good at keeping secrets.” Other people’s. Not his own. Not with her. He’d like to be able to blame his loquaciousness on the wine, but that wasn’t it. She was so easy to talk to. He’d told her way more than he’d intended, although he’d withheld the worst of it. Some secrets could never be told.
She bowed her head and clasped her hands. “You’re easy to talk to. I need to voice my feelings. I spent too much time in silence. I talked about it in therapy, but to tell it to someone who cares, who isn’t being paid to listen, is liberating.” She lifted her chin.
“I do care.”
“I said terrible things to you—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “No guilt.”
“All right.” She smiled. “See? I’m a work in progress.”
Together they cleaned up the kitchen. She spooned the leftover stew into lidded bowls which she stowed in the freezer. “Hey! See what I found!” She waved a cardboard container.
“What is it?”
“Ice cream! I forgot I had this. Vanilla with fudge swirl and nuts. We have dessert.”
“You did say dessert was the best part of a meal,” he recalled.
After the dishes were done, she scooped the ice cream into bowls and suggested they eat in the living room. The fire had burned down to embers. She tossed another log onto the coals and in no time flames consumed it, shooting heat into the room.
They curled up on the sofa, and Chameleon sampled the frozen dessert as Kevanne watched him with an expectant expression. The frozen sweet and creamy concoction melted in his mouth. One spoonful led to another.
“The best part of the meal, right?” she said, digging into her bowl.
“The best part of the meal was the dinner you prepared, but this is pretty good,” he replied.
“Tell me about the others you’re traveling with. You said they’re ’Topians. What are they like? Can they change form like you?”
“Not like me, although some have abilities they can manipulate.” He paused to choose the words that would be truthful without revealing too much. “’Topia served as a social experiment as well as a scientific one,” he said. “The Xenos created a diverse population and put them together to see what would happen. For instance, Tigre is a Saberian.” He drew his fingers across his face. “His facial markings react with his moods, but his nature is very calm, levelheaded. The group decided they needed a leader and chose him to captain the Castaway. Wingman, an Avian, can fly, but his nature is to be suspicious. Inferno can harness and manipulate energy. Shadow is a Vaporian.”
Shadow’s people served as a prime example of the consortium’s malicious humor. “Vaporians are born in corporeal form, but unless they mate, their bodies become less firm until they fade away.”
“How can they just fade away?”
“Sublimation,” he explained. “At the molecular level, they change from solid to gas.”
“Dry ice does that. But a living person can, too?”
He nodded. Shadow’s future was bleak. On ’Topia, he might have found a mate and escaped his fate. Now? His only hope lay with the refugees spacelifted to other planets. Even then his chances would be iffy.
“Psy is a Verital. He resembles a human, but his abilities are mental.”
“Like a psychic? A mind reader?”
“The latter. He can probe memories or erase them.” And probably could implant false memories, he suspected—although he had no proof.
Her spoon clattered in her bowl. “He can do that? What’s to prevent him from invading people’s heads, using it for his own purposes?” Her voice rose with alarm.
“Of all the people I’m traveling with, I trust Psy the most.” Like many others, he’d been wary of Psy, but once he’d gotten to know the Verital, he’d come to trust him implicitly. Psy’s conscience was rock solid.
The Veritals demonstrated to the Xenos that no matter how much control you exerted, shit still happened. Veritals had been created specifically to rat out their fellow ’Topians. But something in the Verital’s genetic programming had gone awry, and they’d developed a strong sense of right and wrong. They used their power sparingly, thwarting the Xeno’s intentions.