Gift of Fire

accident—a violent accident,” Verity said tightly.
    “No.” Jonas knew better and so did Verity. She just didn’t want to admit it. His talent wasn’t for random violence, like deaths caused by storms or accidents. The psychic ability that had nearly driven him insane was linked to the kind of violence men and women used against each other. “There’s someone else involved. I wouldn’t be picking up anything at all if there wasn’t.” He reached out to touch one of the sickly pale ribbons that coiled around Verity’s feet. The shivering tendril leaped hungrily for him, a nasty little snake that would poison him if he wasn’t very careful.
    Faint traces of rage, anguish, and pain washed fleetingly through Jonas as the ribbon tried to coil weakly around his wrist. He quickly released the weak ribbon of emotion and moved back out of reach. Denied its prey, the snake rejoined the looping mass hovering around Verity.
    “Are you all right?” Verity asked.
    He knew she hated it when he touched one of the dangerous ribbons.
    “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” In real time he took a step backward, away from the spot where Elyssa had been standing when she had fallen. The hazy image and the psychic corridor vanished instantly.
    Verity stood rubbing her arms briskly. “Do you really think she was pushed, Jonas?”
    He shrugged. “Something happened out here. Something that involved Elyssa and another person who was feeling both rage and heavy emotional pain. The vision was vague, but you know that I wouldn’t have picked up on it at all if Elyssa had fallen by accident.”

 
    Chapter Fourteen
     
    I suppose it must have been Yarwood,” Verity said quietly as they walked back to the villa, “although I can’t really picture it. He must have found out about Elyssa’s hobby of fooling around with every available male psychic. We heard them arguing, remember? And if he found out what she tried to do this morning he might have really gone crazy.”
    “Maybe.”
    Verity’s brows came together in a sharp line. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’? What other explanation is there?”
    Jonas shrugged. “I don’t know. But Elyssa’s been fooling around for quite some time apparently, and Yarwood hasn’t tried to kill her until now.”
    “Maybe he hadn’t realized what she’s been doing all along.”
    “It doesn’t make sense. He must know what she’s like,” Jonas insisted.
    “Love is blind,” Verity said philosophically.
    “Bullshit. I’m in love with you and I’m not blind to all your faults, or all the trouble you cause me.”
    Verity dug an elbow into his ribs.
    “Ouch! Dammit that hurt.” Jonas stopped and pulled her into his arms. His eyes held a familiar glitter.
    “Oh no you don’t, not out here on the cold, wet ground.” But the excitement was simmering in her veins, too. It had flooded her the instant she’d looked into his eyes. “You know something, Jonas Quarrel? I’ve given this matter of your getting horny every time we go into that psychic corridor a lot of thought, and I’ve come to a few conclusions.”
    “I’m not the only one who gets hot after we go into the corridor,” he growled as he nuzzled her throat. “And I’ve told you, I never experienced this particular aftereffect until I met you. Never had the problem all those months I was being tested at Vincent College. Never had the problem when I authenticated artifacts for all those museums and collectors. No, ma’am, never had any problem like this at all. Until I met you, my thoughts were always as pure as the driven snow whenever I came out of a session in the corridor.”
    “Don’t you dare imply that I’m the cause.” She felt the heat from his body and her insides began to turn to mush, as usual. Her knees got weak. In another few minutes she would barely be able to stand.
    “You know you can’t lie to me, little tyrant,” he said with deep satisfaction. “You feel the same way I do right now.”
    “Maybe, but I’ve decided that I don’t get this way because of the corridor,” Verity said, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of propriety. “It isn’t being your psychic anchor that does this to me.”
    “No? Then what does it to you?” Jonas didn’t seem very interested in her answer. He was too busy nibbling on her ear.
    “It’s you, dammit. Not the experience in the corridor.” She planted her palms against his chest and tried in vain to push him back a step. “You