Beyond the Darkness Read Free Page A

it?—pregnant pause before Amy said, “I appreciate the thought, but Oz is your thing, not ours. Besides, we’re already set on a jungle theme.”
    She pivoted to the right. “They have a huge giraffe—”
    “You’ve bought enough stuff for the baby to fill the extra room already.”
    She hugged a stuffed Toto to her chest. “But I like buying the baby stuff.”
    Or did she like torturing herself? That Amy and Lucas were expecting a baby was stunning. Bittersweet. No, she wasn’t jealous . . . exactly. She was thrilled that they’d found happiness. Amy had confided that the thought of having a baby was scarier than anything they’d gone through, but Petra knew they’d be great parents.
    “No more, hon. You know what we’d rather have? You over for dinner. Every time we invite you, you have some excuse for not coming.”
    “I know, I’m sorry. Next time you invite me, I’ll come. Promise.”
    “I’m holding you to it. Hey, you could buy something for Eric and Fonda’s housewarming next month.”
    “Trying to distract me by throwing a different bone? Won’t work. He’s cut me off.” They had a fully stocked apartment, and the barista machine was quite enough, thank you.
    “How about something for Rand and Zoe’s elopement?”
    “Already bought them a gazillion things.”
    “Okay, then Nicholas and Olivia’s wedding?”
    Petra sighed. “The other half of my guest bedroom is filled with silver and white wrapped boxes.”
    “You know,” Amy said, a teasing lilt in her voice, “they say that shopaholics are substituting for something that’s lacking in their lives.”
    “Like hip-grinding, sweaty sex,” she said, catching the clerk’s disdainful attention. Well, how did she think there came a need for all this stuff? Sheesh. Petra held up Toto. “Maybe you’re right. I have a date tonight, but it’s only a first date. Still, it could lead to . . .” Another glance at the clerk, whose petite nose was still wrinkled in disgust. “ . . . crazy, screaming monkey sex.”
    The clerk hmphed and turned away.
    Petra stroked the blue-checked ruffle on the mobile. “Are you sure about the Oz stuff?”
    “Sorry.”
    “All right, I’ll let you go.” No need to tell them about Pope. They had their own lives now.
    She walked up to the counter and bought Toto, ignoring the clerk’s derisive I’m only smiling at you because it’s in my job description smile.
    Maybe it was the fear of Cheveyo’s rejection, but an eerie feeling chilled her on the way back to the garage where she parked her car. She looked around. Only a few people in the area, and none were paying attention to her. I don’t like this feeling. It wasn’t like the pricklies she got when she was being psychically spied on during those six weeks of Hell, but it still raised a slew of chill bumps on her arms.
    She felt some relief when she was locked in her car. She fished out the little foil-wrapped Dove chocolates she kept in her purse and tossed one in her mouth as she backed out of the spot. Back at the Center, she parked in the lot but remained in her car.
    “You’d better not pretend you’re not there,” she muttered, closing her eyes and reaching out to Cheveyo. He had come to her, but she’d never gone to him. If they shared a connection, she should be able to talk to him, too.
    She thought of his face, surprised at how easily she could conjure it in full detail, his thick, arched eyebrows, the curve of his mouth, his blue-gray eyes ablaze with a fierce protectiveness that squeezed her chest. Her heartbeat stepped up, a heavy, sensuous thudding that seemed to pump honey through her veins.
    Cheveyo . . .
    The connection was like two train cars locking onto each other. She felt him first. Then scenes flashed into her mind: a boy with blue-gray eyes and thick eyelashes staring pensively into the night sky; a dark alley, something moving in the shadows, and the flash of light on metal. The smell of blood. That same boy