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kitty, kitty, kitty.”
    Still no furball. The mewing
sounded again from the farthest corner of the shed. Kerry gripped the penlight
tighter. This was ridiculous. It was just a shed full of tools and one tiny
kitten. All she had to do was walk to the back, flash the light around until
she found the stray, pick it up, and leave. No big deal. Something anybody else
could do without a second thought. Why was it making her heart pound and her
upper lip break into a cold sweat?
    “I can
do this,” she whispered.
    She
shone the narrow beam of light into the yawning maw of darkness inside the
shed. Her breathing had turned to quick, shallow gasps. If she didn’t get
control of herself she would hyperventilate. She concentrated, taking deep
breaths through her nose and out her mouth.
    But the
longer she stood there thinking about it, the worse it would get. She needed to
plunge into the shed and get it over with. She’d just be in there for a few
seconds, maybe a minute, and then she could come out into the open where the
floodlights gave the night enough brightness that she didn’t feel trapped.
    Kerry
drew in a deep breath, clutched the jamb, and put one foot up on the threshold.
She waited a moment, but she hadn’t begun to really panic yet, so she brought
up her other foot.
    Concentrate on saving the cat.
“Come here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she called again.
    More
mewing, but it didn’t seem to have moved away from the far corner.
    Just do
it.
    With the beam of the penlight
illuminating only a narrow strip of floor ahead of her, she took another deep
breath and walked forward. Halfway across the shed, the door slammed shut
behind her.
    She
stopped and screamed, a short sharp sound that seemed to be swallowed up by the
darkness. She swung around, losing her bearings. Sweeping the penlight back and
forth, she tried to find something that looked familiar, but panic was seizing
her, clawing at her chest and throat. She thought she heard something scuttle
to her left and jerked the penlight in that direction. The plastic housing
slipped from her sweaty hand, rolling with a frightening clatter across the
floor and under the shelving. Pitch blackness closed in on her, pressed into
her skin from all sides, and stole the breath from her lungs. When something
touched her arm, she dragged in a gulp of air and screamed as long and as loud
as she could. The high-pitched sound of terror went on for an eternity.

Chapter Seven
    The shouting of her name brought
Kerry back to her senses. Myghal had somehow managed to get her out of the shed
because she had space around her and she had air to breathe. She stopped
screaming, although by that time the sound she was making was little more than
a hoarse squawk. Her legs gave way and her body crumpled. She didn’t lose
consciousness, but it was as if every muscle in her body turned to jelly.
    Myghal scooped her up and carried
her into the greenhouse. He put her down in the chair at her desk, the one
where he’d done such wonderful things to her body that afternoon. Sex seemed to
be the last thing on his mind as he hovered over her, his face a frowning mask
of worry.
    She reached out and stroked a
lock of his long, ash blond hair. “I’m all right now,” she said. The words
burned her throat, and she reached for the bottle of water she’d left on the
desk at lunch.
    Myghal
got it for her, uncapped it and put it to her lips. She drank the few swallows
that remained. He set the empty bottle aside and picked up his, letting her
drink from it. She swallowed greedily, but wondered what he would think of her
when she told him about her irrational fears.
    It
mattered a great deal—maybe too much, considering how short a time they’d known
each other—what Myghal thought about her.
    “Are
you hurt?” he asked, his voice thick with concern. “Do you need something? More
water? Should I find a healer?”
    She
shook her head, happy to be able to breathe normally. She should have known
better