Free Dark Series, The Color of Seven and The Color of Dusk (Books We Love Special Edition) by Gail Roughton

undoubtedly shorter than his. She might as well get it out of the way.
    “I live in your house,” she said. “On Orange Street.”
    He turned around, hand poised on the last button, and stared at her.
    “My house, did you say?”
    She scarcely heard him as she stared at his chest, the hard chest she’d seen before in the Devlin bedroom as he stripped his shirt off and tossed it aside. But it hadn’t looked like this.
    “Oh, my God, Paul!” She stood up and moved to him, her hand outstretched. She caught herself before her fingers traced the lines of scar tissue on the huge X forming the cross mark on his chest. They ran from his shoulders to his abdomen, intersecting above the navel. Never, never, had she seen cuts so deep, so wide, that had healed unstitched. She didn’t know how they’d healed unstitched. Surely, anyone with cuts this bad would have—
    “You bled to death . D idn’t you?”
    “Well, actually I did, but not from these. Though I would have.”
    “What happened?”
    “Here, let me get changed. We’ll go outside and talk.”
    He moved rapidly, yanking a fresh pullover shirt down over his head. He grabbed the silver hairbrush and ran it through his hair.
    “Let’s get you out of here,” he said, and took her arm. He laughed as he bent over to retrieve the screwdriver pressed into service as a doorstop.
    “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said.
    “Very resourceful. That’s you in a nutshell. Very resourceful . I—are you chilly? Breeze off the river has a lot of fall in it tonight.”
    “A little. I guess I wasn’t thinking about being outside after dark.”
    “Wait a minute. And don’t panic, I’m not running out on you. Be right back.”
    She expected him to reopen the door, but he didn’t. He just disappeared. One minute he was there. The next, he was gone. And just as rapidly, he was back, with something over his arm and something else in his hand.
    “How—what—how did you do that?”
    “Thought you were all surprised out.”
    “Well, saying it and then seeing that—”
    “I call it casting out. I just empty my mind and think about where I want to be, and there I am. Here, could you take these?”
    She held out her hands and took the two wine goblets he held. He retained possession of the wine bottle and she saw a light jacket tossed over his arm.
    “There’s a spot I like very much down by the riverbanks. And I think this should keep you warm enough,” he said, moving his arm slightly to indicate the jacket.
    Ria looked down at the glasses in her hand. They had the feel of fine crystal. “How old are these?”
    “I don’t know exactly. They were my grandmother’s.”
    Ria immediately slowed and began to feel for irregularities in the grass before she stepped. “I’m stumbling around in the dark carrying two hundred year old crystal?”
    Paul laughed. “ Grandma ma ’d be pleased to see them put to use.”
    “Don’t you need a jacket or something?” Ria asked.
    “No. I mean, I know it’s getting a bit nippy. I know when it’s cold and I know when it’s hot. But the cold and the hot don’t bother me. Here we are. Can you see?”
    Paul stopped on a mound overlooking the Ocmulgee River. The lights of the city played over to their left, and directly in front of them, the lights of I-75 burned brightly. The headlights of the passing cars swept past them, moving rapidly.
    “How beautiful!”
    “Isn’t it?” He sat the wine bottle down and reached for the glasses. Then he sat himself, bracing his back against the base of a marble statute that stood on the hill. He gestured for her to join him and draped his jacket over her shoulders, along with his arm. He pulled her gently back and settled her comfortably against his shoulder as if they’d known each other for years.
    “And now,” he said, “now that you’re a captive, explain, please . J ust how in the hell did you kn o w a man named Paul Devlin ever existed ? And why you’re not