SEER'S CHOICE (BOOK THREE OF THE SEER TRILOGY)

By Maree Anderson

CHAPTER FIVE

This time I'm gonna do it right. Quick and clean. No more mucking about. Bet he won't even notice when I'm gone. He won't care. He doesn't care about anything except his effing work. Nothing'll change when I'm gone—

The young man's self-destructive litany went on and on, and his inner pain and shame scorched Rowan's soul until she knew she would do anything to make him stop.

Another voice penetrated her mind. Rowan, listen to me. You're a witness—nothing more. Don't try to intervene. Whatever happens to him it is not your fault!

A witness? She was expected to stand by and watch and do nothing?

No. She rejected the idea utterly. Why did she have to witness his suicide? What purpose could there possibly be for her to share his suffering and last moments on earth? It was cruel—unbearably cruel. She couldn't take it anymore.

Why is this happening to me? she screamed at the voice. WHY?

But the voice had faded away, leaving her alone with a damaged young man who was about to end his life. And in that moment Rowan knew one thing: she was not going to let him die.

Calmer now, she watched him fiddling with the locked drawer of the desk in his father's den. He broke the lock and a triumphant smile flit across his lips. He took out a case and fumbled with the combination lock. And she experienced a sense of inevitability when he finally got the combination right and opened the case to stare at the gun nestled inside. Reverently he stroked it, murmuring the specs his father had drilled into him. Kimber locked-breech semi-auto single-action pistol.

His father had showed him the pistol many times, boasting it had features specifically requested by the LAPD SWAT unit. He knew how to load a magazine from the stash his father kept "hidden". He'd been permitted to accompany his father to the range and even accorded the privilege of firing it. The pistol was his father's pride and joy... as he could never be.

He lifted the weapon from the case and hefted it in his hand, relishing the comfortable rubber grip. It would do the job. He rummaged around in another drawer and unearthed another box. Barely minutes later the pistol was loaded and ready to wreak havoc.

He released the safeties just as his father had shown him. And slowly he forced as much of the barrel he could manage without gagging into his mouth. Then he closed his eyes and Rowan could see no more.

Her calm fled and the words she'd been rehearsing flew out of her head. Don't do it! Please. There are people who love you... who'll miss you when you're gone. You have so much to live for!

His eyelids snapped open. He withdrew the barrel from his mouth and with studied care placed the weapon on the desk. Only then did his gaze flit wildly about the room. "Who's there?"

A curious dislocation, like something had latched onto her and yanked her out of Zach. "I'm here," she said. "Rowan. Me."

"What the fuck are you?"

Huh? The truth smacked her. She was no longer looking through his eyes, seeing what he saw. She still linked to his thoughts but longer inside him. "You can seeme, can't you?"

He squinted. "Yeah. You're sort of shimmery, though, like you're not really here. Lemme guess. You're the fucking Angel of Death, right?" His bark of laughter lacked conviction. He was spooked. But then, so was she. And then some.

She swallowed. "Me? An angel? Highly unlikely."

"Well, Rowan. I'm royally sick of being fucked around. So if you're not the Grim Reaper, you can piss off. I'm about to off myself, okay? And a little privacy would be good." His voice squeaked with false bravado.

She huffed a shaky sigh. "I'm not a ghost, either, if that's what you're thinking—" she extracted his name from his mind "—Zach. But I'm stuck here—with you—until the end. At least, that's how it usually works. Now, I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean 'that's how it usually works'? This sorta thing is regular for you?" A spark of curiosity lit the deadness of his gaze.

That's it. Keep him talking. You can do this."Yes. I seem to have developed an affinity for the about-to-be-dead. Somehow I become linked to them so I experience their thoughts as they die."

His gaze turned owl-like. "Sic!"

"Yes." She pretended to misunderstand the slang. "It makes me very sick. Sick to my soul. So sick I don't think I can take much more."

He blinked and shook his head as if to clear it. "You're becoming more, uh, real." He grabbed the pistol and aimed it directly at her, holding it all-too-competently in a two-handed grip.

"I am?" She glanced down at herself.

"You're really here. Fuck!" Fear made his voice high and squeaky. "You're not a ghost. You're real!" The gun wavered in his hands.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Zach," she said. "You're going to do that all by yourself." It came out bitter and angry, and she was sorry for that because he was just a kid and he was hurting and he didn't deserve her anger.

"How'd you do that? How'd you just... appear in my house?"

She frowned and then shrugged. "I don't know. Believe me, it's never happened like this before."

He nodded. "Okay. I do believe you."

He didn't lower the gun, though, and she could see the muscles of his arms flexing with the strain of keeping it steady. The trusting sort, obviously. Not that she could blame him. And then an idea burst into her brain. A tantalizing idea. Risky. But in the back of her mind she figured that if it went pear-shaped it'd almost be a relief. Zach wasn't the only one who craved peace from his demons.

She inhaled a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. "So I'm here—wherever here is. And you've got that gun—"

"Pistol," he corrected. "It's a pistol."

"Whatever. Would you do me a favor, Zach?"

He gnawed his lower lip. "Depends."

This boy was no pushover. She hit him with it straight so there was no room for misinterpretation. "Shoot me."

His face paled until the freckles stood out like splatters of brown ink on the bridge of his nose. "Wh-what?"

"You heard me. Shoot me. Please?"

He gave her the kind of head-to-toer that would one day have girls falling at his feet—if they didn't already. "You're a babe. How come you got a death-wish?"

"I don't want to live like this anymore. I want...." She squeezed her eyes shut. She'd never admitted this to anyone. She'd barely admitted it to herself. "I want to be with my husband."

"Where'd he go?"

"He's dead." Now she'd admitted that the rest came tumbling from her mouth. "And I loved him so much there's a huge gaping hole where my heart used to be. I couldn't save him. He had terminal cancer and he didn't want to live anymore. So he shot himself." She opened her eyes so Zach could see the truth in them. "Just like you're going to do. We might have had another few months together, or even years. But he gave up. He didn't want to try to live—not even for me. So he killed himself."

Shit. Zach lowered the pistol and placed it on the desk. He swallowed, trying to ease the sandpaper dryness in his throat. "That stinks. I'm sorry, Rowan." He gazed at her. And winced at the raw pain radiating from her. "Your husband—how long ago did he die?"

Her voice was a hollow haunted whisper. "Five years."

Five years ago? It seemed like a lifetime to him. And she still hurt this bad? Jeez.

He hadn't given much thought to the people he would be leaving behind. His primary motivation was anger. At his mother for dying. At his father for turning into a zombie and ruining his life, making him leave all his friends and move across state. Since his mom had died his dad didn't care about anything anymore. He didn't get that Zach had been top of the food chain at his previous school. Popular, athletic, star of the football team with the head cheerleader for a girlfriend. A walking cliché and damn proud of it. Now he was nothing. Just a new kid who had to prove himself all over again.

He wanted everything to go back to the way it was. He wanted to be back home with his girlfriend. Ginette had understood how hard he'd worked to get where he was because she'd done the same. Now she was dating someone else—Zach's former best friend. She'd DMed him on Facebook. Said she hoped he'd understand why she couldn't wait for him. And he did understand. Being popular, being seen with the right kids was the ticket to being somebody. But it still hurt. Just like his dad burying himself in his work hurt. His new job was more important to him than Zach was. That's why he'd ignored Zach's first attempt to kill himself—pretended it had never happened. Just a stupid kid fooling around with prescription meds, trying to get high. A few therapy sessions and everything would be peachy, right? Let someone else deal with it.

Zach wished his mom were still alive. She'd understand what he was going through. He missed her. Unlike his dad. He'd never once seen his dad cry since Mom died—not even at her funeral. Cold-hearted bastard. Sometimes he hated his dad....

But not enough to put him through the kind of pain and despair Rowan was going through. "Rowan, I—"

"What the hell are you up to, Zach? What's going on?"

His head snapped around. Ah shit. His dad stood in the doorway. Zach cringed as he watched the realization dawn on his face.

"Zach—" A muffled sound caught his dad's attention. He whirled and he must have seen Rowan because he spluttered, "Who the fuck are you? What the hell are you doing in my study?"

Zach sagged with relief because if his dad could see her too it meant he wasn't losing it.

"I'm here because your son needed me, Mr Mallory," Rowan said.

"That true, Zach?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it's true. She knew I was going to... I was going to...." He couldn't say it. Not now. Not when he saw the despair welling in his father's eyes. He looked old, suddenly. And tired. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Me, too. I should have been here for you, Zach." He walked over to the desk and picked up the gun. He engaged the safeties before he ejected the magazine and pocketed it. And then he placed the pistol in the case and locked it.

Zach stared past him, at Rowan. She'd started to fade again and if his dad saw that he'd freak. Zach snorted. He'd freak anyway once he figured out she'd vanished into thin air.

His dad glanced over his shoulder and did a classic double-take just as Rowan shimmered and then disappeared. "How'd she do that?"

"No clue," Zach said.

His dad's attention fixed on him again, and his face was white, eyes wide with disbelief. "Who the hell was she, Zach?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. My guardian angel, maybe? All I know is her name's Rowan."

His dad's mouth opened and closed again. He looked like someone had smacked him upside the head. After a while he said, "Thanks, Rowan. I owe you one." And for the first time in a long time Zach smiled.

~~~

The tenuous link he'd forged with Rowan before she vanished had stretched to breaking point when she'd become corporeal. He hadn't been able to latch on to her and yank her to safety. All he had been able to do was observe from afar, horrified, as she told the kid to shoot her. He hoped he would never have to confront that kind of bone-melting fear again. His pulse rate was still abnormally high and his jaw ached from clenching his teeth. Even his vision was blurred—tainted with a hazy shade of red. Gods. She'd be the death of him.

He sucked in a deep breath and concentrated on her again. Ah. There. Got her. Now to bring her back....

Rowan re-appeared, fully corporeal once again, and he grabbed her as she crumpled. He sank to his knees cradling her limp body. He studied her face, realized she was trying to speak, and bent his head to catch the words. "You're welcome, Mr. Mallory," she mumbled, and slipped into unconsciousness.

Ryley examined her. Her vital signs were stable, energy levels low but not dangerously so. She seemed none the worse for her adventure. Thank the gods. He, on the other hand, had aged a decade. He consulted his brother. Wake up, shit-for-brains.

I'm always awake, asshole.

Any ideas how that just happened?

Sorry, dude. All I can figure is her need to save the boy boosted her abilities to the next level... and that was the next level.

Ryley mulled that idea and had to admit it made sense. So now she doesn't just have a psychic connection with these people, she has the ability to make a physical connection, too.

Yep. Pretty cool, right?

Maybe.

Look at it this way. Now Rowan can directly influence events, she has more control. Meaning she'll start coping with all this woo-woo shit, and you can quit worrying about her and leave her alone. Won't that make our mother happy.

How can I leave her now? The gods won't allow us to meddle. We don't get to pick and choose who lives and who dies. We're not supposed to interfere. But Rowan is interfering with the natural order. Nothing good can come of this.

Apparently the gods of this world don't have a problem with her.

Sometimes Ryley found it impossible to follow his brother's logic. How do you figure that?

You know as well as I do that we're not the only Sehan who's told the rules to take a flying fuck at some stage. And yet, funny enough our world hasn't ended. How is what Rowan just did by convincing that kid not to blow his brains out any different? Besides, she's still here. She hasn't disappeared in a little puff of smoke because she pissed off some all-powerful deity by mucking with destiny.

Granted. But—

Chill, bro. Why would she have been gifted with these abilities if she wasn't supposed to use them? Must be part of the Grand Design.

He rubbed a hand wearily over his face. Aryn had a point. Damn him. Perhaps you're right and I shouldn't interfere.

And maybe, Aryn whispered slyly in his mind, your relationship with Rowan is all part of the Grand Design, too. Maybe you shouldn't have watched from afar all these years. Maybe you should have gone for it when you first discovered her and saved yourself some mighty blue balls.

I don't have a 'relationship' with Rowan.

Not yet, but if I know you—and I do—you're working on it. And with that parting comment Aryn's presence retreated.

Ryley allowed his brother the final word because there was little he could do to dispute it. He was working on a relationship with Rowan. Of sorts. Even though he knew in his bones it was a bad idea and he'd only end up hurting her. And himself.

He stood with her in his arms, visualized the small, tidy living room of her house, and willed himself there.

~~~

Rowan burrowed deeper into the warmth radiating from the body curled around hers. The arms that encircled her torso tightened and then relaxed. It was wonderful to be held like this. She felt... safe. Cherished. And then the truth smacked her and her eyelids popped open.

There was a man in her bed.

Her frantic heartbeat echoed in her skull, making it difficult to think logically. Escape. Get away. Get out of the room soon as you can.

She tried to edge from his embrace but the muscles in his arms flexed and she forced herself to stay still, waiting. And then the scent of him curled through her nostrils—a crisp complex scent like someone had walked barefoot across a carpet of herb-infused grass.

She recognized that scent. Ryley. Thank God.

Now that her eyesight had adjusted to the dim moonlight seeping through the curtains she took stock of the situation. She was in her own bedroom. She lay atop her comforter. Fully clothed except for coat and boots. Highly unlikely any funny business had occurred while she was out cold. Her panic eased and her tensely coiled muscles began to unfurl.

A familiar whuffle drifted to her ears. Huh. Laptop was sound asleep on the mat at the foot of the bed. For certain nothing had happened then, because sure as eggs Laptop would have made a fuss and Rowan would surely have remembered that. Surely.

Ryley must have brought her home—somehow—and stayed to make sure she was all right. All quite innocent. Nothing to worry about.

And then her brain kicked up another gear and the events of the evening careened through her mind. The boy—Zach. He had seen her. His father, too, no doubt about that given his pole-axed expression when he'd spotted her. But that didn't necessarily mean she'd been physically present. She could have been a... a... projection.

Even so she'd been in Zach's mind and then... separate from him. She'd spoken to him. They'd had a conversation. She'd talked him out of killing himself. And if she'd done it once.... Could she do it again?

Too much too soon. Pain stabbed her skull as a killer headache blossomed. She bit her lips against a moan.

Ryley's breathing quickened. "Rowan," he murmured. Then, more alert, "Rowan." Before she could utter a word he rolled her onto her back so he could loom over her.

He did a very impressive loom.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes."

"How about you tell me what happened to you?"

Her breath caught. The throbbing behind her eyes vanished, and for a moment she wondered whether it'd been a figment of her imagination. And then she was drowning in his intent golden gaze, struggling to remember the stock explanation for her "episodes" that usually tripped off her tongue. "I-I felt a... a... migraine coming on and I must have blacked out. Thanks for... for... bringing me home. A-and for staying to check I was okay."

She hated lying to him but what other choice did she have? And she hoped he couldn't see the flush of heat skimming her face and neck... and lower.

"Nasty things, migraines."

She sagged with relief.

"I've seen many weird and wonderful things," he said in a conversational tone, "but I've never seen a woman vanish before my eyes and then reappear because of a migraine. How about you try that again, sweetling? And this time, perhaps come up with something a little more inventive than a bad headache."

The blood turned to ice in her veins. She tried to launch herself from the mattress but he grabbed her arms and pinned them over her head. His thighs slid between hers. And damned if her insides didn't liquefy with lust as her body responded to the intimacy of their positions and his weight pressed her deeper into the mattress. She gasped, and then bucked beneath him in a frantic effort to free herself.

"Rowan, please," he grated, and something in his tone made her freeze.

Oh God. He wasn't—? Her spread thighs cradled a certain part of his anatomy that told her he definitely was. And as for her own body.... Was it possible to be turned on and humiliated and scared all at the same time? "Get off me. Now."

"Not until you tell me the truth."

She turned her head aside and stared at the expanse of deep gold comforter—a match for his eyes now she came to think of it. God. What a mess. "What's the point? You wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Try me," he said. And when she couldn't bring herself to answer that invitation he released her wrists to gently trace a fingertip down her cheekbone. "Rowan. I promise I will always believe you."

A snort of disbelief escaped her tightly compressed lips.

The sigh of his breath tickled her skin and he eased off her and sat up, dragging her with him but keeping hold of her wrist as though he expected her to bolt. Smart man.

He slumped back against the pillows. The hand bracketing her wrist gentled and then he released her. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he announced to the far wall of the room.

Laptop whined and padded over nose his hand. Leaning down, he ruffled her fur, and she slurped his face. "Thanks, girl."

"Oh, so nowyou wake up," Rowan said. "Some guard dog you are. You're supposed to be protecting me, not him."

The Malamute whined and nosed Ryley's hand again.

"Yeah, I know, girl. But she won't tell me the truth."

To Rowan's surprise, her dog padded around to her side of the bed and heaved her forepaws up on the mattress so she could lay her head in Rowan's lap. She whined again.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" She patted Laptop and fussed over her a bit to reassure her there were no hard feelings. And then she pushed her dog off the bed and glared at the cause of all her problems. Well, most of them, anyway. "I suppose you're going to claim to know exactly what she's saying?"

"What's the point? You wouldn't believe me anyway."

She didn't appreciate having her words thrown back at her. She slitted her gaze but he only smiled and threw up "you win" hands. "Laptop thinks you should confide in someone," he said. "And of all the humans she knows, I'm the best equipped to listen."

"Is that right?"

"Yes."

She lifted her chin and folded her arms across her chest. Laptop might be an excellent judge of character but Rowan knew Ryley would have her committed if she told him the truth. "Give me one good reason why you're 'equipped' to hear my secrets?"

The silence closed in and she was about to call his bluff when he spoke... inside her mind. If I told people the truth about me they'd probably want to lock me up, too.

How was he doingthat? Her gaze fixed on his face, waiting for him to speak again, watching carefully to see if his lips moved.

They say a burden shared is a burden halved, so how about you tell me your secret and I'll tell you mine?

His lips hadn't moved. This was surreal. But strangely she didn't feel like bolting next door and begging James to ring the cops and save her from the crazy man lounging on her bed. "I don't know how to explain it," she whispered. "I don't think I can."

Then don't explain. Think about it and I'll take it from your mind.

"You can read minds? How?"

I was born with the ability. Sort of.

"And you've kept this secret all your life?"

Pretty much, yes.

"Oh." She digested this startling fact. And realized she felt rather silly speaking aloud and having him respond directly inside her mind.

"If it makes you more comfortable we can talk normally." His fingers began to stroke the pulse-points of her wrist, soothing and inciting in equal measure.

She forced herself to concentrate. "So... can you read my mind all the time?" A horrifying thought.

"I wouldn't do that without permission."

"Really?"

"Really. Oh sure," he continued, obviously picking up on her doubts, "if I care to, I can read surface thoughts—the kind of dull, everyday things people think of all the time. Grocery lists. Annoying habits their spouses have. What an asshole their boss is for making them work late. How much they'd like to smack that guy in the fancy car who cut in front of them. I generally block those out so I don't go crazy."

She nodded. "Makes sense. I guess it'd be like being stuck in a room, craving peace and quiet, while everyone blurted the first thing that came into their heads to you."

"Indeed. But reading private, innermost thoughts is difficult—takes more energy than I usually care to exert. Besides, people generally sense their mind has been invaded and instinctively throw up mental barriers."

Ah. Good to know. She flicked him a glance, and from the slight curve of his lips guessed he didn't need psychic powers to know how relieved she felt.

She breathed out the last of her tension and relaxed against the pillows. "I suppose your—" She'd about to say curse but maybe he didn't think of his ability that way. Unlike her. "I suppose your gift is what makes you so effective when you work with kids."

"It helps."

"But isn't it sort of... unethical to read their minds?"

He shrugged. "Where abused children are concerned, I'll do anything in my power to ease their suffering. The way I see it, why on this earth should I insist they tell me their experiences—relive them—when I can take the information I need directly from their minds? Bad enough they were abused in the first place without having to suffer through it again for the sake of a therapist."

"Thousands of child-psychologists wouldn't necessarily agree," Rowan muttered. "Modern doctrine insists we can't heal unless we talk our problems to death."

"You don't agree with that philosophy, I take it?"

"No."

"So I gather you don't wish to tell me about what's been happening to you." His fingers stilled on her wrist.

She shifted on the bed and turned it into an "I'm just getting comfortable" wriggle. "I didn't say that."

"Oh, so you do want to tell me." His fingers recommenced those gentle, disturbing trails over her pulse points.

"I didn't say that, either." She tugged to reclaim her hand. If he stopped touching her then she might be able to think straight.

He released her, and for some indefinable contrary reason, her heart twisted. She had to fist her hand at her side to keep from reaching out, clench her jaw to keep from begging him to touch her again.

"What doyou want, Rowan?" He gazed deep into her eyes.

It was a pity he couldn't read her innermost thoughts. Because just once she wanted to forget about all this death and misery and loneliness that was eating away at her soul. She wanted someone—him—to hold her tight and help her forget... just for a little while.

Ryley snatched her into his arms, settled her across his lap, and kissed her thoroughly. When he came up for air he rested his forehead against hers to catch his breath. "Gods. I've wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on you."

"Me, too," she whispered.

His lips laid claim to hers again and she melted against him, dizzy with need, fighting to keep her eyelids open and not lose all sense of self in the intensity of his gaze. And then she felt herself falling backward and he followed her down, pinning her body with his own. She hooked her ankles about his calves, cradling him between her thighs. The weight of him pressing on her. The strength of the muscles rippling beneath his skin as she explored him. That wonderfully sensual smell of aroused male that she'd forbidden herself to experience for so long. The silk of his hair trailing across her skin. The thrill of his lips nipping her throat. Her eyelids drifted closed and she fell headlong into pure sensation.

~~~

**Author's Note: Sorry folks, have to end this here. The rest of this chapter is a little too steamy!

Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson

www.mareeanderson.com

Thank you for reading this excerpt of SEER'S CHOICE. You can buy the published electronic editions of THE SEER TRILOGY (including The Seer Trilogy eBook Bundle) now at Smashwords, Apple iBooks Stores worldwide, Amazon worldwide, B&N, Kobo, and Google Play.

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You might also enjoy these other books by Maree Anderson, all available wherever electronic books are sold:

THE SEER TRILOGY:

~Seer's Hope (Book 1) - FREE at most eBook stores; read the full story here on Wattpad!

~Seer's Promise (Book 2)

~Seer's Choice (Book 3)

~The Seer Trilogy eBook Bundle (Books 1, 2 & 3)

THE LIMINALS SERIES

~Tangent (novella-length prequel to Liminal - FREE at most eBook stores; read the full story here on Wattpad!

~Liminal (Book 1)

~Phase (Book 2)

THE CRYSTAL WARRIORS SERIES

~The Crystal Warrior (Book 1) - FREE at most eBook stores; read the full story here on Wattpad!

~Ruby's Dream (Book 2)

~Jade's Choice (Book 3)

~The Crystal Warriors Series eBook Bundle (Books 1-3)

~Opal's Wish (Book 4)

THE FREAKS SERIES

~Freaks of Greenfield High (Book 1) - FREE at most eBook stores; read the full story here on Wattpad!

~Freaks in the City (Book 2)

~Freaks Under Fire (Book 3)

~The Freaks Series eBook Bundle (Books 1-3)

ELEMENTAL RIDERS SERIES

~Lightning Rider