Page 1 of The Heat of Intensity

CHAPTER ONE

– COSIMA –

A growl of frustration rips from me when I open my eyes. Why I even bother to open them when I wake up is beyond me. Okay, I should feel slightly better now that I regained a blurry mess of eyesight in my left eye. The right one, though? Nothing. Not even a blurry glimpse; only a whole lot of nada in capital letters.

You never stop to think about how valuable your eyesight is until you’re confronted with the loss of it, either partially or completely. I move my head around to take in the blurry blob that’s my room. At least I’m able to move around more now that I can at least see something with one eye, and not bump into every-freaking-thing.

One moment in time and my life as I know it takes a nosedive. Where I used to jump out of bed early to start my day and work from sunrise till at least after dinner, I’m now on a schedule that involves loads of rest and just a mere hint of work per day. I’m slowly getting back to doing things, but my head needs the rest due to the headaches and much-needed recovery.

Besides, my loss of sight doesn’t leave me many options to do all the stuff I used to do. For now, I’ve only made a few calls and caught up on all the voicemails people have left when I had to hit pause on everything after my attack. My sister, Eastlynne, is taking care of the horses Rourke, her old man, brought to his ranch.

Our stables have to be rebuilt and that is the noise I’m currently hearing. The construction crew has started bright and early each day for the past few weeks as Rourke and his guys arranged. My mood takes a nosedive at the thought. I’m a control freak and right now my hands are tied while others take over. I hate it.

I throw the blankets back and slide out of bed. My first trip is to the bathroom to handle my business and then I grab some clothes to get dressed. Another thing that makes me feel less like myself. Before the attack? I wouldn’t even leave my bedroom without being perfectly dressed with my make-up in place.

I haven’t so much as pointed my finger in the direction of a mirror and why should I? I can’t see properly and rarely leave the damn house anyway. Not to mention, no one swings by because I told my sister to keep everyone away. The only ones who come here are my sister and Rourke.

I know for damn sure that annoying Parker has been sneaking into the house as well, but I’ve never been able to catch him if he does. How do I know he’s been in the house? He lets me know through text messages and I can smell him.

Sounds weird, but I remember his scent. Parker was the one who found me after I was attacked. He has a very distinctive scent which is a combination of spice, leather, and citrus. The citrus is from the sweets he eats. The knowledge of this little tidbit is also due to a voice text message. He’s been sending them since the day I was attacked. At first, I didn’t reply, but the man is persistent.

There’s also not much to do if you’re bedbound and I do have to admit voice to text and vice versa, right between plain voice messages are entertaining when you have time to kill any time of day. He sounds nice. A little overbearing, though. A persistent asshole who doesn’t take no for an answer, but also sweet in a caring way.

I have no clue what he looks like because I met him that crucial day when I was attacked so my eyes were already swollen shut by then. He sounds ruggedly handsome. Hell, we talked about sexual preferences, and he sounds like the type of man I’d jump for a ride even if he didn’t have the looks to match. Though, the way I feel about myself right now? Sex won’t be a consideration any time soon.

I grind my teeth and turn, seeing a glimpse of movement in my window. Did I imagine it? Dammit, I hate not being able to see. And for fuck’s sake why didn’t I close my curtains? Oh, I know…not being able to see makes me forget to freaking close them. I should have though, because I was naked when I slipped into a change of clothes.

Great. I bet some of the construction workers have been enjoying the show for the past few weeks. I can’t believe I flashed them my boobs and whatnot. No wonder those guys start early. Ugh. Did I mention I hate everything?

I hear soft footsteps somewhere inside the house. The kitchen maybe? Strange. Eastlynne stayed with Rourke at his ranch last night so she’s not home. I wrap my fingers around the shotgun I keep beside my bed and silently walk down the hall.

My vision is shit and over the past few weeks, I’ve had to rely on my other senses. Scent and hearing are my main focus and right now the scent of a male enters my nose. Sweaty, smoke, and a hint of iron. My heart lurches when I hear movement and swing my gun in that direction.

“Who are you?” I snap. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

I can hear the rush of my blood in my ears, that’s how hard my heart is pumping. Adrenaline spikes when I hear soft shuffling.

“I said don’t move,” I growl and try to catch a glimpse through the blurry vision when I catch a hint of movement.

Without thinking I pull the trigger and my shoulder screams at me from the recoil. Turning my head, I blink furiously in an effort to get a tiny gap of clear vision like I had yesterday, but it’s still freaking blurry.

“Cosima,” I hear my sister scream. “Cosima, what the…hey, put the shotgun down.”

“Put it down, you heard your sister,” Rourke grunts. “We’re stepping into the kitchen so point it to the fucking floor before you hurt your sister.”

“Someone was here,” I tell them and lower the shotgun.

“What’s going on? I heard someone shooting,” Parker states from behind me, scaring the shit out of me.

I spin around and Parker barely manages to grab the barrel before I hit him in the head with it.

“Easy, babe,” he murmurs and I let him take the gun from me.

His spicy scent wraps around me and I want to bury my face into his chest.

Stupid. Why would I want him to seek him out for comfort? He’s not my boyfriend, barely even a friend. Hell, I’ve never even seen him with my own damn eyes.

“Anyone come past you?” Rourke asks.

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