Unseen Read Online Free Page A

there are,” he said. “It was kind of a figure of speech, but anyway, the hot water heater’s crap. One shower at a time or we both shower cold.”
    “Oh.” I considered that. I had experienced cold indoor showers before; it was surprisingly less pleasant than being caught in the rain. Perhaps it was the fact that one deliberately chose it. “Then I will let you go first.”
    “Oh?” He was draining his bottle quickly, and cut a sideways glance toward me. “Thanks.” He didn’t sound especially grateful. I wondered what subtext I had missed in the conversation. Again. It was especially frustrating when I was tired and felt so grubby. I would have been glad to go first, and the fact that I had offered so selflessly seemed, to me, to be worth some gratitude on his part.
    And yet, when his gaze lingered on me, I felt all that melt away. Luis and I had been ... close ... for some time, but never close , in the euphemistic way humans sometimes used the word. When he gave me that kind of considering look, it felt unexpectedly intimate, as if a door had opened between us. I wasn’t under any illusions that it was a change in our relationship; one of us always slammed the door shut at some point. My background didn’t lend itself toward absolute trust and honesty, and his—well, I suspected his didn’t, either.
    And still he watched me. I stared back, my eyebrows slowly climbing, and finally said, “What are you thinking?”
    “Nothing,” he said, and tilted his bottle up for the last of the beer.
    “Really.” I sipped mine. I was less than half finished, but the beer combined with the exhaustion from the effort made me feel light-headed, in a pleasantly drifting sort of way. “That’s odd. It looked as if you had something on your mind.”
    “Don’t you think I know when I’m thinking of something?”
    “I would assume you would.”
    “And you think I would tell you all about it.”
    Ah. There was the interesting point. “Why wouldn’t you?” I asked. “Unless you think I am thinking something entirely different.”
    “Cass ...” He sighed. “Damn, girl, I never know which way to jump with you. When it’s all action and danger, we’re synced like a sound track; when it’s just you and me, I never know what you’re thinking, or what you’re feeling, if you’re feeling anything. I look at you and you just ...”
    “Just what?”
    He shrugged, frowning. “You just reflect,” he said. “Like steel.”
    That surprised me, and it hurt a little. “I am not steel,” I said. “I am human. Blood and bone and muscle, heart and feeling and vulnerability. Don’t I show that?”
    “Not even a little. Not here.” He sounded almost apologetic about it. “Probably not your fault, you know. You’ve adapted so well to everything else, it’s not surprising you can’t shed that last little bit of Djinn.”
    I drank a quick, cold mouthful. “I was a Djinn for aeons. I’ve been a human for months. Maybe you’re judging me a little harshly, Luis.”
    “Oh, yeah, I know. I see your point. It just doesn’t make it any easier to get a vibe off of you, that’s all.”
    “What vibe are you trying to feel?”
    That made him look away at the empty beer bottle in his hands, which he turned slowly, finding something intensely interesting in the label. “Just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all. And you get all closed up.”
    He was lying. I was expert enough in human feelings to feel that , at least. And suddenly I understood what it was he was seeking—what it was that I’d been holding back, hiding behind my Djinn mask. I had not lied. I was human, and vulnerable, but my instincts were never to disclose that soft, unprotected side to anyone. Not even to Luis, who most needed to see it.
    And the thought of letting down that wall, of exposing my true feelings to him ... that was terrifying, in the same way that it would be to stand on the fragile edge of a cliff with a killing drop below. If