Jonas considered the possibility that Jeff was the target of that threat. “If someone is trying to get to Jeff, wouldn’t they do it in his dream? They wouldn’t have to kill him in reality. If they killed him in his dream, then his body would die.”
“What would be the point of actually killing him, Jonas? If the spy is looking to acquire information on Lily’s child, they would need Jeff alive,” Camellia pointed out.
She was right. Whoever wanted to know about Ryland and Lily’s son needed Jeff alive. They needed Jeff to dreamwalk in order to get information from him. But who would have known to put a spy in Jeff’s dream to give the data to Whitney, if he was the one to send someone after Jeff? Jonas was no closer to that answer. In any case, he could be completely off target. It was only one possibility.
A soft, low-pitched hoot, the notes long and drawn out slowly over eight to ten seconds, slightly longer than Jonas knew a Great Gray owl would make to declare his territory, filled the night. Thirty seconds went by, and the male emitted the same call, letting all males know the territory was claimed and he would defend it. The owl was a distance away, yet he could be heard clearly, his low-pitched hoot traveling not only through the airwaves but along that communication center in the ground as well.
Jonas’s gaze jumped to Camellia’s. “You have this place wired.”
She nodded. “That’s why your friends are safer here.”
She began to walk from him, her pace unhurried but all purpose. He followed, watching the way the mist curled around her body, making her look as if parts of her were dissolving right in front of him. At times, it appeared as if her body had been cut in half, her middle gone, and he could see through her. He wasn’t shocked; he could hold his arm out and observe the same phenomenon in himself. The difference was, he was certain she knew why they could do it, but he didn’t.
“What is the owl saying to you? You have a mated pair of Great Grays, don’t you? The ghost owls. Phantoms. Like us. Nearly impossible to see if they don’t want to be seen.”
She nodded. “Yes, they come with me whenever I change locations. I tell them not to, but they don’t pay attention. Blue andGray.” She sent him a little grin over her shoulder. “Really innovative names, right?”
He could see her having Great Gray owls. They flew low, just off the ground, no more than eighteen feet. They were silent, gliding mostly between perches. They preferred to sit on top of a broken tree stump and listen for prey with their acute hearing. They often flew just three feet above the ground with slow wingbeats, so silent even on the quietest nights they couldn’t be detected as they hunted for prey.
These particular owls perched on tree stumps where the roots went deep into the forest floor and were connected into the information web that spread throughout the area. Their raptor talons dug deep into the tree trunks they sat on. If they had news to convey, they could relay it through that web running under the ground.
Jonas was not yet adept at understanding everything he was hearing. He knew the male bird had conveyed a message and Camellia had instantly reacted to it. She was heading toward a particular part of her garden. He didn’t ask again what the owl had communicated. He did try to puzzle it out. He had to get skilled at reading the network, just as expert as she was.
“That threat we’re both feeling is creeping a little closer to us,” she said. “It’s not close enough to worry about,” she added when he reacted by lengthening his stride so he was breathing down her neck. Camellia was short, so that wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but he knew it was intimidating as hell.
She sent him a quick look over her shoulder again, this time, her eyes looking like a cat’s, a little wary, very feminine. “I would have told you immediately if your men were in trouble, Jonas.” There was a low note in her voice, a soft hint of rebuke.
He wasn’t going to apologize for needing to keep his brothers safe. “I told you, I have the same trust issues you do. You weren’t happy tosee me—or them. We were trespassing. After what you told me about how you were treated, I can’t say that I blame you for how you feel about GhostWalkers or the program. On the other hand, that just makes it more likely that you’d do anything to protect yourself, including allow my men to be in harm’s way to provide yourself with an opportunity to escape.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” She sounded amused.
Jonas was tempted to reach out and grasp her shoulders to give her a little shake, but he didn’t. He was afraid if he touched her, it would turn into something altogether different from the reprimand he had in mind. He had to make an effort to repress the sudden amusement welling up out of nowhere. Since the moment he’d set eyes on her, his emotions had been all over the place, bouncing from anger and suspicion to amazement, desire and humor. She did that to him. And damned if he didn’t like it. Not that he would tell her that. She had way too many advantages as it was.
“Camellia.” He forced a warning growl into his voice.
Her laughter bubbled over. The sound moved through the garden like bells on the wind. The exotic flowers blooming so explicably in this miraculous garden reacted, turning to follow her progress as she strode in the opposite direction of her home.
“Jonas. Seriously. Use your skills. And your logic. If I was going to throw you and your team members to the wolves, I wouldn’t have told you what Gray was warning me about, now would I? And you can hear truth. If I tell you the men are safe but they aren’t, you would know. If anyone has to worry, it’s me.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because you know the moment you are out of my garden, I intend to run, and you don’t intend to let me. You’re the big bad wolf. Don’t bother to deny it. I can read you like a book. You might think you’re all badass and can hide your expression and body language from everyone, but you can’t from me.”
She halted abruptly in front of a little grotto. A narrow, shallow stream burbled across the bluish and gray pebbles making up the bed, sounding musical. A series of three tiny waterfalls stair-stepped artfully down the flat surfaces of three large, flat rocks, the water forming a zigzag pattern as it fell. At the base of the last stone, the water collected into a small pool before spilling over the sides into the stream. It was quite pretty, like everything else in the garden. Behind the little falls was a naturally formed cave, quite shallow, and lined with the same shiny bluish-gray river rocks that lined the stream and the pathway leading to her house.
The mist appeared almost lavender as it floated around the little grotto, stream and shallow pool. She stood very still, and once more, it was nearly impossible to see her, the mist making her nearly transparent. He had the urge to reach out and yank her to him, shackle her wrist with his long fingers and hold her to him.
“It isn’t that I don’t intend to let you run, Camellia. It’s that I don’t want you to go. That isn’t the same thing. For the first time, I feel as if I have someone who actually sees the real me—all of me—and accepts what I am. There’s freedom in that. I can talk to you. I’m attracted to you. I’d like you to stay and see where this takes us. Do I understand you wanting to get the hell out? You bet I do. On the other hand, if this threat is closer than I thought it was, I could use help determining what’s going on, because I honestly don’t have a clue, and I think you’re better at puzzle-solving than I am.”
He wasn’t above appealing to her ego. He was strictly honest, not wanting her to ever catch him in a lie. He knew there would be times he might have to sidestep a question or finesse an answer, but he was determined to be as honest as possible, especially when it came to the personal stuff.
“You’re also a hunter, Jonas,” she pointed out. “Running makes me prey. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself.”
“I’d have to have a reason to come after you, Camellia.” He kept his voice low, trying not to sound like the killer he was.
She turned to face him, her hands on her hips, her head tilted back. She was so close, each breath drew the scent of her into his lungs. Camellia blossoms often didn’t have scents. Neither did Camellia, the woman. Not unless she was like this, up close, so close they could have been touching. There was a subtlety to the fragrance of her skin. Feminine. Definitely exotic, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint but that he knew he would always associate with her.
Camellia didn’t lack courage. She looked him right in the eyes. “You do have reason to come after me, Jonas.” Her long lashes swept down and then back up. “We have too many connections pulling us together. You’re a hunter. You won’t just sit around thinking about it.”
