Free Vision in Trust (Legends of the North #2) by Liz Bower Page B

herself around him, one hand stroking the back of his neck, as well as the soft hair above it. Over and over, she just kept stroking, until he lifted his head.
    "Was it ... Did you have ...?"
    Rob shook his head. "It wasn't like yours. There was no blood when I woke up. It was just a dream. A really fucking horrible dream."
    She stroked his cheek, the hair beneath her fingers soft. "I'm sorry."
    "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't real," he said, leaning his head into her hand.
      She swallowed hard, her tongue flicking out, wetting her dry lips. "I know. But me running from you probably didn't help."
    "Why did you?"
    She shook her head. It didn't really matter anymore, did it? She didn't want to tell him, not after that—it seemed stupid. She was saved from having to tell him as the lights flickered before they were plunged into darkness.
    She felt Rob tense beneath her as she grasped his shoulders. She was about to ask him what had happened when she felt his fingers press against her lips. His breath was hot against her ear, his lips brushing against it.
    "Don't say anything. I'm going to go have a look around. Stay here."
    "Please, don't leave me here," she whispered into his ear. She hated the dark, but her eyes were starting to adjust to the faint streetlight that filtered in through the open curtains. He reached down and picked something up, and then there was a ray of white light. His phone. She clutched onto his belt with both hands as she followed him into the kitchen.
      He checked the door, but it was locked; however, the security light in the backyard was off, even though it was battery-powered. He shone the torch from his phone through the window, but there was nothing except covered garden furniture and plants. They found the same at the front, and Rob checked the fuse box.
    "There are no lights on in any of the houses. I think it's a power cut on this side of the street."
    "Great."
    He reached for her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Come on. I'll build a fire, that'll help."
    ***
    Jess sat on the floor with a blanket wrapped around her while he scrunched up newspaper and layered on kindling to get the fire started. It had been hard telling Jess about his dream. Hard to relive it, because he knew how much she meant to him already.  
    He didn't think Jess felt the same way, though, but he'd hoped that telling her would get her to open up at least. It was an unusual feeling for him. He didn't share about his past and was never usually that interested in other people’s. But Jess? He wanted to know about Miles, about everything. She was worse than him about sharing, and he wondered why. It made him want to know all the more.  
    As the flames engulfed the kindling, he added two logs and put the grate across. He sat back from the fire, next to Jess, his back resting against the coffee table. He could feel the heat from the fire already, and stretched his legs out in front of him, toeing off his shoes. Jess was quiet, looking lost in the dance of the flames. She hadn't told him what her vision had been about, but the fact that she ran from him made him believe he was involved somehow. The flames licked around the logs as they started to burn brighter. He'd known Jess for years but didn't really know her. She didn't know him either.
    One of them had to give in first because they couldn't keep shutting each other out. He was starting to agree with Emma, that he was involved in all this somehow. Glancing over at Jess, she ignored him and just carried on staring into the flames. He picked up his bottle and turned to face her, his elbow resting on the coffee table.
    "Do you want to play a game?"
    She glared at him like he had grown another head. "I don't play games."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

    "This will be fun. I'll go first." He cleared his throat, hoping it would be fun. It might be disastrous. Too late now , he thought, trying to come up with two lies. "I'm a virgin."
    Jess burst out laughing. "Right, and the Pope’s