by Tate James
“Before your own healing evolved, you needed triggers. Danger, excitement… sex… they were your triggers. So something must have triggered your ability to heal other people, too. You were clearly leaving out some details in your story earlier, so I ask again. What was going on when you healed that Romanian dick? What were you feeling?” His question made me pause.
Had it been that obvious I was leaving details out? I didn't think that my sex dream about Wesley or my attraction to my captor were relevant details. Nothing good could possibly have come from telling the guys that a crime lord had seen me masturbating in the tub. He had a point about the triggers, though; what had I been feeling when the healing had started working?
“Okay, I can see you're thinking really hard there and I don't want you to break your poor little brain, so I'll leave that question with you for now.” His sarcasm made me want to hit him sometimes. Actually, that sounded like a pretty good idea.
Curling my hand into a fist, I smacked a punch into his arm, causing him to yelp.
“What the hell, princess?” he yelled. “You could have caused an accident!”
“Whatever. You deserve so much worse. Why are you always such an asshole?” I demanded, and he flicked an uncertain look at me.
“I'm not,” he replied unconvincingly, and I snorted.
“Oh no? Since the day we met, you have gone out of your way to be a dick to me. You try to antagonize me at every opportunity, and don't even get me started on that stunt you pulled at paintball.” I glared at the side of his gorgeous face while he kept his eyes glued to the traffic in front of us, saying nothing.
“It's like that is it?” I narrowed my eyes, even though he wasn't looking at me. “I wonder what Caleb would say if I told him we made out when you were pretending to be him…”
“Oh look, we're here,” he announced with a tiny grin. Bastard.
We pulled into a carpark inside some tall wrought iron gates and parked in a visitor space. I looked around for some indication of where we were, but could see nothing.
“Okay, I give in. Where have you taken me?” I asked, getting out of the car and following Austin's tight ass up the ramp to the front door of the building.
“Just, cool it,” he told me. “You'll see soon enough.”
Inside the foyer, he stopped us at a reception desk and greeted the uniformed woman in a friendly voice, making me stare at him in confusion. He quickly signed a logbook then ushered me down a corridor to an elevator.
“Okay, but seriously, where are we?” I asked again once we were inside the elevator. “It looks like some sort of hospital?”
He just raised his eyebrows at me and a small smirk pulled at his lips.
Damn him. That smile made me look at his mouth, which made me think of what that mouth felt like on mine…
“We're here,” he announced again, snapping me out of my daze and leading the way off the elevator and down another corridor. He knocked a couple of times on a door, then let himself in without waiting for a response.
“Kit!” The high pitched screech hit me moments before the inhabitant did, her tiny body almost knocking me off my feet as she hug-tackled me in the doorway.
“Luce?” I grabbed her and pulled her away a little to get a good look at her. “What the hell? I thought you were at that fancy rehab in Connecticut that Jonathan set up with your parents? I called there yesterday looking for you, and no one said anything about you leaving!”
“Ah yeah, that's because they don't know I have left.” She grinned at me impishly. Of course she was up to no good. But how was Austin involved in this? I looked over to ask him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Where did he just go?” I looked around the room, a bit confused.
“Oh, he's just being shy.” Lucy laughed and tugged me over to the matching armchairs near her picturesque window.
“Austin? Shy?” I squinted at her. “Are we talking about the same douchebag here?”
My best friend just laughed and shrugged. “Yeah, weirdly, he's not actually as bad as we thought he was.”
Concerned for my friend’s sanity, I looked her over carefully. Maybe she had brain damage. She actually looked pretty good, all things considered. Her left hand was still in a heavy cast, with several metal pins sticking out of the plaster, but other than that, she looked really healthy. Her hair had grown out a bit and was now bright purple, and she had none of her facial piercings in.
“You better start from the top, girl. Right now I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. Your hair looks great, by the way.” I winked at her, and she beamed.
“Thanks! Okay, so you know how I had to get all those extra surgeries and shit on my hand?” I nodded. “Okay well, so, the rehab was like a goddamn prison; as you know, they wouldn't let anyone visit or anything, and then there was this whole scandal where they thought someone had broken in but nothing was taken. Turned out to be a whole lot of nothing, but after you got kidnapped, Austin shows up, totally determined that I needed to be moved somewhere safe in case they came for me too. He was, like, legitimately fucking stressing about someone pulling another Dupree, so he found a lookalike Lucy to take my place there and moved me here.”
“Wait a minute. Hold up. Austin?” I clarified, and she nodded. “Austin King. As in, the asshole who has been declaring civil war on me since the moment we met? That Austin?”
“Yes, that Austin.” She giggled. “I think that was all a misunderstanding. Do you know anything about Peyton?”
“Only that I remind him of her; what do you know?” I demanded. The Peyton thing had been bugging me.
She shrugged. “Nothing. Anyway, here I am, and you can visit me all the time! Yay!”
“Sorry, I am still wrapping my head around this act of selflessness. Are you sure it wasn't Caleb pretending to be Austin? It's a surprisingly convincing act when they want it to be.” I glowered a little, and she just rolled her eyes at me.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I have totally finished my surgeries, and once I get these pins taken out of my arm, it's just another few weeks of physical therapy and I should be back to normal!”
“Luce, that's so great. I am happy for you, but I still feel awful that this all happened in the first place…” I chewed the edge of my lip. “So, I think I can heal other people now… if you wanted me to try and heal your arm?”
For a moment, she didn't respond, staring down at her damaged limb. “But that might make me something else, right?” I nodded, and she sighed, looking out the window while she thought it over.
“I think maybe I will just wait and see how the PT goes…” she said tentatively. “Not that there's anything wrong with being, you know, different… It's just…”
“I get it. I just wanted to let you know.” I awkwardly looked around her room. She had every right to decline. It was doubtful I would have made a different choice in her shoes without knowing what might end up happening to me as a side effect of the healing.
“Hey, who are these people?” I asked, getting up to look at a photo sticky-taped to her mirror.
“Oh, those are some of the PTs and patients here. We took that just a couple of days ago when it was Sally's birthday. She’s hot, huh? We had a moment.” She tapped the picture, pointing to a pretty, blond girl.
“Who is that?” I asked, pointing to a darkly handsome man standing behind Lucy. Something about him seemed familiar.
“Oh, that's Finn. He's my trainer. Isn't he gorgeous, too? I’m seriously spoiled for choice here!” She winked, but a shiver of ice ran down my spine.
“Finn? Are you sure? That's Finn?” I tapped on his picture a little more urgently, having realized why he looked so familiar. Although the last time I had seen him he had a scruffy beard and was looking really malnourished.
“Uh yeah, why? Do you know him?” She frowned at me like I was a nutjob.
“Luce, that's the guy from Blood Moon!” I exclaimed in a bit of a panic.
“What guy?” she asked, c
learly not getting it.
“The, argh, the guy! You know, the one that punched his fucking fist through a guard’s chest!” I was freaking out now, looking around Lucy's room for a suitcase so I could pack her up and get the hell out of here.
“Okay, woah. Kit. Chill the fuck out, girl,” she said, pushing me back into a chair. “I'm not leaving, so you can stop looking around like you're going to drag me out of here.” Damn best friends and their ability to read your mind.
“Look, he has been my trainer since I got here almost two weeks ago and has never been anything but nice to me. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have already done it, don't you think?” She sounded rational. When had she become so rational? I was used to her being the one freaking out.
“Didn't you say that after he killed those guards, he was polite? Even thanked you?” she reminded me, and I nodded slowly. “Okay, so that kind of sounds like he's a victim of theirs just as much as we were.”
“I see your point…” I agreed slowly. “I don't like it, though. It's too much of a coincidence.”
“Of course it is. But I don't think he's the bad guy in all of this. Look, he's not on shift today, so let’s just calm the fuck down and speak with him next time he's here. Okay?” She gave me a serious look, as if to say I won't be budged on this, Kit.
“Fine,” I said grudgingly. “But you have to call me as soon as you know he's here, and I will come question him.”
“Come question whom?” Austin asked, reappearing in the doorway like magic.
“I'll tell you later,” I lied with no intention of telling Austin anything. Despite Lucy's claims that he wasn't such a bad guy, he had been nothing but nasty to me from day one, and I wasn't the type to forgive and forget easily.
“Whatever, visiting hours are over, and the guys are blowing up my phone. Can we go?” he asked me in a bored voice, but his gaze was shrewd, and I suspected he wasn't going to let it go that easily.
“Oh! Here! Before you leave.” Lucy jumped up and rifled through her bedside table, pulling out a small gift-wrapped box. “Happy birthday for the other day, girl.” She handed me the present with a beaming smile, and I grabbed her in a tight hug.
“You didn't have to do that,” I muttered, and she laughed.
“Whatever. Open it later. I'll call you when I see Finn next.” She smacked a kiss on my cheek then, surprisingly, on Austin's cheek as well before ushering us out.
“Who is Finn?” Austin asked as we walked back to his car.
“Lucy's PT,” I replied evasively, and he yanked me to a stop, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“I know that. But who is he to you? Why do you need to question him?” The scowl on his face said he wasn't letting this go without clearer answers, but I was nothing if not antagonistic.
“None of your business,” I replied, like the shithead I was, and watched as he ground his teeth together hard.
“Princess,” he said from behind clenched teeth, “I am trying really hard not to be an asshole because you've had a rough time lately, but you don't make it easy.”
“Oh now you care?” I challenged, for some reason really wanting to provoke him into an argument. Maybe because it was the only time I saw a bit of fire in him? Or maybe because I had determined that he did care and just wouldn't admit it.
For a long moment he just stared, his burning green gaze on mine, then he sighed.
“I've never not cared, Christina.” He dropped the tight hold he had on my arm and unlocked his car, holding the passenger door open for me. “That's part of the problem.”
Selfishly, I wanted to push him further but could tell by the tightness in his shoulders and the blank, closed off look to his face that I would get nothing more from him. For now.
23
VALI
Glass shattered and spilled everywhere as my father hurled a whiskey decanter against the wall in a fit of anger. Fuck, he was acting like a child.
“I hope you intend to clean that up,” I remarked dryly, cocking an eyebrow at his petulant behavior.
He turned back to me, his face a boiling red mask of fury. “How could you? You stupid fucking child! Seven million dollars! Seven million! Not to mention the fact that you have pissed off a seriously influential man.”
He had been raging on like this for a while now, ever since he’d seen the bloody mess of bodies in my garage and found out Kit had escaped. Thank God. I hoped she was okay; she had looked really scared when she ran from my property with Pierre.
“Do not fucking ignore me!” my father hissed and raised his hand as though to hit me, which I caught in a tight grasp.
“Never raise your hand to me again, old man,” I snapped at him, roughly shoving him backwards by the wrist I had just grabbed. He stumbled at the force of it and looked at me with a little less confidence.
“I think you forget which son you are dealing with here. I will not tolerate your tantrum any longer. You tried pulling a fast one by selling my new acquisition from under me, and it backfired. Now she's in the wind, and there is nothing you will do about it, am I clear?” I curled my lip at him in disgust. There had been a time when my father was the most feared man in the criminal underground. The original Românul. But I knew the truth; that he had let the power drive him temporarily insane. After he’d murdered his own wife and halfway killed his other son, my brother, he had lost his mind, and I was left to pick up the pieces. At only fourteen, I had stepped into the power vacuum he had created when he’d abandoned his empire and bent it to my own will. Now I was in charge, and he had better not forget it.
“You better hope this doesn't come back to bite you on the ass, boy,” my father warned, regaining a bit of his composure.
“Well, if it does, it will be my problem to deal with. Now get the fuck out of my home; you know you aren't welcome here except for appearances.” His jacket hit him in the face when I threw it at him with disrespect.
“You're going to have to get over this pathetic grudge sooner or later, Dragomir,” he sneered, and I knew it was to deliberately antagonize me. Damn, it was working too.
“This pathetic grudge? You murdered my mother.” I ground my teeth together hard, rage boiling up in me like it did every time he picked at this wound. “Not to mention what you did to Andrei. I will never let it go, you vile old prick.”
“Oh, don't be so dramatic. That woman wasn't your real mother, and Andrei deserved what he got.” My father's scoffing tone made me see red. How dare he?
“Get. Out,” I hissed, low and dangerous, but the stupid old fool didn't take my warning.
“You know, you've been acting pretty strangely lately, Dragomir. Maybe it's time to pass the reins back to your old man, hey?” He smirked at me, totally oblivious to the tension coiling in me as I just barely held back from ripping his head off.
“I said, get out!” This time my message came out of me in a bellowing roar, startling even me and draining the color from my father's face.
“I'm leaving,” he said, backing toward the door. “Ungrateful, fucking child.”
Fists clenched, I turned to the window, not caring to watch him leave. My anger was still burning hot and seemed to be building more, despite the object of my fury having departed. The desert below me was calm and serene in the morning sunlight, but even that wasn't doing anything to help cool my emotions.
Throwing my glass against the wall to join the already smashed decanter, I stalked back up to my room and ripped off my clothing. Why am I so damn hot? My skin was burning like I was on fire and sweat was rolling down my face, but my mind kept escalating the fury I was feeling towards my father. It was all I could focus on.
Almost thirteen years had passed since it had happened, but the anger I was experiencing made it like it was yesterday. In my memory, the scene was still fresh. I had come home early from school after getting suspended for fighting with another kid. When I walked in, my mother’s screams were echoing through the house. Technically, my father was correct when h
e constantly reminded me she wasn't biologically my mother; she was Andrei's. But he was only two years younger than me, and given I had never met the woman who had birthed me, she was all I had. And she loved me.
My feet almost slipped from under me as I raced down the stairs to the basement, where I knew I would find them. Father had been “grooming” Andrei for years to be my second in command when we grew up. He was to be my enforcer, and supposedly, in order to give pain, he needed to understand pain. It made me sick, but Father assured me it was the only way.
That day, when I rounded the corner to the torture room in the basement, I wasn't prepared for what I saw. He had never gone this far before. Andrei, my poor little brother, was unconscious and covered head to toe in blood while my Father stood over him clutching a bloody hunting knife. Our mother was on her knees, tears streaming from her bruised face, and I knew she must have tried to intervene and been hit for it.
As I stood there, frozen in shock, my father raised his blade again and swung it down hard towards Andrei's chest. My horrified scream pulled his attention at the last second, making him hesitate. In that moment, my mother dove over her young son's lifeless body, and the momentum of Father's swing drove the long blade straight through her.
She was killed instantly, and in his rage, Father pushed her off and stabbed at Andrei again, pinning him to the floor as the tip of the blade stuck in a crack. I finally found my voice, screaming for the guards we always had around the house, and they dragged father away, leaving me alone with his mess.
Andrei hadn't died that day, but the knife had pierced his chest only an inch from his heart, going all the way through and out the other side. When he’d finally recovered enough from the injuries, he took off. We had barely spoken to one another since then, but our paths still crossed now and then.
