switch, and three corner torchieres threw soft light over the living area. Nice place, with polished wood floors and moss-green walls. Plants in dark wicker baskets accented the natural feel.
He waved toward a dry bar in the corner. âWant a Whis-Kye?â
âMaybe just a splash of whiskey straight up.â
Her gaze went to a picture of a little boy held by an alligator magnet to his fridge. He had haunted brown eyes and a smile he was obviously forcing for the photographerâs sake. She walked over to it. âWhoâs this?â
Kasabian stepped up behind her, his presence nearly overwhelming. âJonathan. Heâs the younger brother of one of the kids at the youth home where I volunteer, and he went to one of these supposed camps. The mother said he was later adopted, but Lyle is suspicious. And hurting. He hasnât seen his kid brother in a year.â He stared at the picture, anger and pain in eyes that were now more hazel than green. The shade of whiskey. âThe need to find him is eating at my soul. Maybe itâs because I imagine my mother looking at my picture the way Lyle looks at his.â
âYou volunteer at a youth home?â The thought gave her a whole different impression of this sexy bartender.
He handed her a glass of amber liquid, dark gold in the ambient light. âItâs where I lived for a few years. I like to give back.â He shrugged, downplaying it.
She took the glass, inhaling the smoky scent. He started making an absinthe, pouring water over a melting sugar cube into a glass of opaque green liquid. The menthol aroma filled her nose and made her eyes water.
She leaned against the black granite counter and watched him. âEvery Caido whoâs done the Cobra had one of those first.â
He lifted his glass up, and when she touched hers to it, he said, âHereâs to liquid courage.â
Kye felt no speck of courage as she threw back her splash and a half. You have control over this.
He finished his drink and came to stand in front of her. âTell me what to do.â
He was at her mercy. It gave her a weird sense of power sheâd never felt before. âThe Caidos dropped fast once the process was complete, so you want to be on carpet. The bombardment lasts anywhere from one to two hours and then you pretty much pass out for the night. The Caido who recovered his memories woke with them the next morning.â
âHopefully it wonât be as bad for me. I havenât stuffed away my emotions as much. In fact, I crave them: joy, heartache, jealousy, anything. Thatâs why I work in a club, so I can soak them all in.â
âBut donât they hurt you?â
âI have to do the Essex every night to manage the pain.â
Now she understood that strange twist of emotions sheâd picked up from him that first time. âSo youâre an Essex addict?â
âIâm an emotion addict. But I guess since I need the Essex to manage the emotions, that assessment would be apt. Working in a bar gives me an array of people who need healing, and who can ease my pain as well.â He gave her a soft smile. âAnd you want to know why I crave emotions.â
She started to say no, that it was none of her business. Might as well be honest. âOf course.â
âI think it has something to do with what they were doing to me while I was being held captive. Hayden feels the same.â
âSo thatâs why youâre forty ways fucked up.â Finally, she had an answer.
His smile darkened. âPart of it.â
Great. Part of an answer.
He led the way to the living room, where he moved the coffee table away from the thick, contemporary-style rug beneath.
âGet comfortable,â she said.
He raised an eyebrow. âThat usually means being naked.â
The mental picture of him standing naked in front of her sent an odd tingling right down to the core of her belly. She blinked,
Caitlin Crews, Trish Morey