Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

surface of the water.
    Hannah let the familiar sounds of the sea soothe her. This was her favorite place in the world. In all her extensive travels, she'd never found another spot she wanted to call home. She could breathe in Sea Haven, was comfortable with the camaraderie of the people in the small town. She liked that she knew everyone, that she could go to the grocery store and see familiar faces. There was comfort in Sea Haven, and the town was surrounded by the raw, powerful beauty of the ocean, which always gave her peace. The sea was constant, reliable, a source she could draw on in the worst of times.
    She lifted her face to the sky, her breath rushing from her lungs when she saw three vapor trails beginning to form into solid circles around the moon. One glowed an eerie red, one a dull yellow and the last a dark, ominous black. Hannah snapped to attention, wariness replacing the dreamy relaxed expression the wind had given her.
    One hand went to her throat in a defensive gesture.
    She was one of seven daughters born to the seventh daughter in the Drake family.
    Hers was a legacy of special gifts—or curses, depending upon how one viewed them.
    Hannah could call and send the wind, she could cast spells and had some small talent with herbs. She could move objects with her mind and read the mosaic in the entryway of the Drake home. Like her sisters, she could read tea leaves and, if touching others, often could even read their thoughts. She could also read the moon and sky, and right now they were giving her a blatant warning.
    "Hannah!"
    She frowned as the masculine voice drifted up to her from below, inside her house—
    the house that had been locked. She had even padlocked the gate again, binding the security device with a spell, but she knew it wouldn't matter—the heavy lock would be open and lying on the ground as it always was after Jonas touched it. She'd locked him out on purpose, angry that he hadn't called her, hurt that she didn't matter. He ignored her until he needed something and then he took her for granted.

    She didn't bother to answer. He'd just keep yelling until she came down to him, or worse, he'd come up onto the captain's walk and give her a safety lecture. With another wary glance at the moon, she hurried from the deck into the house and down the stairs. If Jonas was in a bad enough mood, the moon might have been circled in the eerie yellow, but not with three rings. Something wasn't right.
    Jonas emerged out of the shadows as she leapt off the bottom steps. He caught her around her waist, fingers biting deep as he lifted her clear and steadied her, setting her back on her feet. The moment of brief contact brought a searing heat, straight through her body to her bones. Jonas always had such a physical effect on her, when no one else ever managed to penetrate her deliberately haughty façade.
    "You aren't supposed to be lifting me, Jonas," she reminded him, pulling away, keeping her face averted so he couldn't see the flush on her face. "You haven't been out of the hospital that long."
    "Long enough," he replied, his cool, assessing eyes drifting over her from his superior height.
    Her heart sank. They were both going to pretend the recent incident had never happened. Jonas wasn't going to tell her he'd been back working for his old team and she was too cowardly to demand answers from him. She had the sudden urge to cry.
    She'd sent him help, maybe even saved his life. His new wounds were recent—only four days old. The moment he'd put his hands on her, she'd been able to feel his pain—it wasn't like he could hide the information from her. But she wasn't going to help him heal this time. He could just suffer.
    Hannah was tall, yet Jonas seemed to loom over her when he crowded her personal space, which was just about all the time. He always smelled of outdoors, fresh, like the sea and surrounding forest. He was tall, broad shouldered and heavily muscled, and he moved with grace and efficiency and complete confidence. He also saw far too much when he looked at her through those ice-blue eyes of his. No one saw her the way Jonas did, stripped of all her careful defenses and so vulnerable she ached when he was close. She absolutely would not let him see how much he hurt her. This time she'd go—and not come back. No fighting, simple dignity.
    She stepped away, keeping her face averted. Irritation crossed his face and his eyes glittered at her, a sure danger sign.
    "Your bags are