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unprepared for them to be in my grandmother’s house, and my brain struggled for a more practical explanation. I met Cheney’s annoyed expression when I looked up.
    “Do you see why you need to stop playing games and listen?”
     “I’m not playing any games—”
    “Like hell you aren’t. It has to stop, Selene.” He charged me, his face inches from mine.
    “What sort of ‘game’ do you think I’m playing? I don’t know why you’re here, who you are, or what I could possibly have to do with any of this. Perhaps if you’d stop trying to scare me and tell me what you want, we could get somewhere.”
    “Bullshit. I don’t know why I even bother.” He turned away and paced, tossing an occasional glance in my direction.
    “God damn it, who are you? What are you doing here? Who were those men? How do you disappear and appear wherever you like? And what do you want with me?” Years of pent up anger suddenly raged through me. I clenched my fists at my side to keep from attacking him.
    He frowned. “I’m Cheney.”
    “Yes, you’ve told me that, but you act like I know you. I’ve never met you. Aren’t you listening to me at all?”
     “You most certainly do know me.”
    “I’ve never seen you before in my life!” With this final shout, the wall to the left of Hunt cracked from floor to ceiling, and a tremor ran through the floor. Oh shit. I let myself get too worked up. The last time this happened was the night my parents died. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the energy coursing from my body. The sounds of glass shattering around me only set me more on edge. I couldn’t lose control, not again. My head throbbed with energy, power.
     “Look at me,” Cheney commanded softly.
    I opened my eyes and met his. “Give me your hand,” he said in the same gentle tone.
    The room was shaking, things were flying off the shelves, and everything made of glass had shattered. My head continued to pulse. I put my shaking hand into Hunt’s and sparks crackled the air where our skin met. The next instant I stood on the beach.
    “Ground your energy, Selene.” Cheney’s voice was calm and patient as if he’d done this a thousand times.
    I looked at him, not knowing what he was talking about.
    “Touch the ground. Send your energy into the sand.”
    I did as he told me, and my vision went dark. Then there was nothing.
     

     
    I opened my eyes and I was lying in my bed, the moon shining peacefully into my room and Stewie curled into a ball on the pillow next to me. Thank God it was all a dream. I sat up, stretching my arms. What a weird—
    My relief stuttered to an abrupt halt.
    Cheney, all long, lean muscle and noble bone structure, leaned against the doorframe watching me. He wasn’t just handsome. In an unkempt, wild sort of way, he oozed sex appeal. His eyes darkened with interest when I looked at him.
    No, it wasn’t just a dream. Not just a dream at all.
    He came toward me like he was approaching a feral animal, doing everything in his power to appear non-threatening, which was impossible since every ounce of his being screamed hunter—just like his name. “Do you know where you are?” he asked.
    “In my room.”
    He nodded and sat on the edge of my bed. There was so much going on under the surface of his eyes, I couldn’t guess at what he was thinking. “You really don’t know me, do you?”
    I shook my head, positive I’d never met him. He wasn’t someone I was likely to have forgotten. Again he was too close to me, and it was hard to breathe.
     “Do you want to?” he asked even softer than before.
    I didn’t think I could speak, let alone answer that question. I continued to stare into his eyes, unblinking and drowning in their seas. Golden flakes I hadn’t noticed before sparkled in the green depths like sunshine playing on waves. The front door slammed. Cheney scowled.
    “Stay here,” he commanded as if I were a soldier. A moment later he disappeared.
    Of course I didn’t stay put.