Acier pushed a beer in front of him. Merc took a sip of the icy brew. Tonight was the night Summer had her weekly dinner with her two best friends—Kiera, Liege’s daughter, and Ashlyn.
Grumpy’s was a typical college dive. Not the place you’d expect a group of oversized mutant warriors to hang out. He didn’t know if Acier or Bastion had found it first, but it had been their go-to watering hole for a while. A quick look around explained why—plenty of unattached females and a large supply of alcohol. Even now Acier and the bartender were having a private eyeball convo. Geez, just a glance from the mutant made the girl lick her lips. Acier, the team’s weapons master, had the run of the place now that Bastion had settled down with his missus. It was the Matchmaker who’d gotten Bastion and Selena together—a more unlikely pairing Merc couldn’t imagine, but he had to admit that they seemed happy.
But Merc wasn’t Bastion. Or Liege, for that matter.
Merc had had his one and only, his dream life, everything, until the Omnis took it away from him. He knew what that felt like. He lost them a little more every day that passed as his emotional scars mended the edges of his soul, pulling him back together, numbing him.
And now the Matchmaker wanted him to take up with another woman, bring her into the fold like a sheep offering.
He wasn’t going to do it.
Bastion grinned at him. “I thought you would change your mind about coming in. I am happy you’re here.”
“Righto,” Merc grumbled, then sipped his beer.
Liege had struck up a conversation with Selena, taking his attention from Merc. But Guerre still watched Merc—not surprising, as it was his first night away from the fort since his coma. He ignored the healer. The man was no more interested in the females or liquor than Merc was. The guy’s healing skills were wicked strong. Since the mutations made a changed person more of what they’d been before the change, Merc wondered what that meant for Guerre. Had he been a doctor? Had he studied medicine?
Whatever—they were lucky that Liege had convinced Guerre to join them. Had the Omnis gotten hold of him, it would have been a severe loss for the Legion.
Merc stared into his rapidly warming beer. He wasn’t a fun addition to the group that night. Really, he was just running down the clock, waiting for Liege to pick up Summer from her weekly dinner with her friends so he would know when Ash had finished her evening and was alone.
12
Merc parked outside Ash’s house, watching for it to go dark, then waiting even longer for Ash to sleep.
He shouldn’t do this. Not because of its questionable morality—he’d long ago run out fucks for human etiquette. He shouldn’t because he was skating dangerously close to a tragedy—for him…and her.
He would do this just once, just one time be physically in the same room with her. He would breathe the air she breathed, touch her skin, maybe slip into her dreams, then leave…if only to prove he could.
He entered her house through the side door. She had a security system in place, but the electric shield he covered himself with was perceived by her system as an anomalous surge, not a physical presence.
Her kitchen had been renovated to modern tastes, with its gray-green lower cabinets, white uppers, and a crisp white quartz countertop. The furniture arrangement in her living room was perfectly proportioned for the small space she had. It felt as tight as a closet to him, but then, he’d become accustomed to the sprawling area of the fort.
There was a bathroom and two bedrooms at the back of the house. He had only to reach for her energy to know which room she was in. He closed his eyes and let the feel of her surround him. He’d learned her essence the first time she’d entered his space—during his coma nightmare.
She’d only seen the beauty of that overlook.
He’d seen his van, crushed far below, Tina and the girls still inside.
He’d been considering jumping when Ash busted in, but it would have been his luck that the old adage that dying in a dream meant dying in life wasn’t true. When he’d next looked down to the crashing waves below, the wreckage was gone.
Gone.
Ashlyn had erased his family.
He crossed the threshold, moving into her room to stare at the woman on the bed. She lay on her side, the covers between her legs, one long limb bared by the knit shorts she wore.
He hated the heat she made him feel. Hated that she made him feel. He, like all but Acier in his immediate group, had suffered the loss of his libido when he was transformed into a mutant. They were created for the express purpose of becoming spies and warriors, capable of infiltrating places regulars couldn’t. The engineers of their designer mutations felt that having a sex drive would be a distraction.
He’d taken the loss of it in stride—until her. He’d thought of it as retribution for what he’d let happen to his family. He never wanted to fall for—or fail—another woman. Sure, there were times he wished he could have enjoyed a fast go with a female he didn’t know and wouldn’t see again, but it wouldn’t have given him pleasure, not with his modified body. It was like eating food without the ability to taste it.
Now, because of her, sex was the only thing on his mind, and it was still forbidden to him.
Drawing a long, slow breath through his nose, he pulled the scent of her into his lungs, fresh and sweet. She rolled to her back, dragging the covers to her waist.
He walked to the foot of her bed. This was close enough. He told himself to leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he drew the room’s shadows around him, covering himself as he put a knee on her bed, then his other knee, straddling her legs.
Her eyes opened. She stared right at him, but didn’t startle. He compelled her to believe she was dreaming. He felt an unusual buzz as his knees touched her. He dropped to his hands, kneeling over her legs. The vibration bounced from her to him. He began crawling up her body, feeling the electricity move with him.
He’d never experienced anything like that with Tina, but then, he hadn’t been with his wife after he was modified. Maybe there would have been a buzz.
When Merc reached Ash’s shoulders, he saw the glass bead she wore. It was more of a medallion, flat and an inch long.
He remembered the day she got this in Valle de Lágrimas. He’d gotten her out of the pit the night before. The effort that had taken had sent him back into a deep sleep. When he woke next, it wasn’t in the fort that his consciousness surfaced but in that Colombian village. She was there, in the marketplace. His spirit had blown forward to her. She was stunning in the gray light of night, but in the sun’s streaming rays, she was magnificent.
She was his.
His spirit self had touched her face, kissed her, before realizing what it was she held—the handblown glass dots with the dirt he’d bled on.
He’d smashed the table, making all the little trinkets and statues tumble, startling Ash out of their momentary connection.
And here he was, with her, flesh to flesh. He paused to breathe and calm himself. This moment, stolen from her, was all they could have.
He lowered himself over her body. She sighed. She was slight under him. He wanted to be skin to skin. He wanted to roll her over, rip the covers and their clothes away, and enter her, fast, without prelude.
He wanted what he had no right to desire, regardless of the Matchmaker’s Curse. Wanting Ash meant wanting her death.
He wasn’t going to go there.
And yet he bent down and kissed her shoulder, just a light caress to feel her, breathe her, taste her. That kiss spawned another, and another, as he moved closer to the curve of her neck.
She tried to spread her legs, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. No way could he resist such a terrible invitation.
She wrapped her arms around him, stroking the length of his back, over his ass, and up again. Her grip on him tightened. He slipped into her mind and realized she was afraid of losing him, of waking to find it was but a dream.
And that was exactly what had to happen. He
had to go.
He deepened her sleep state, but, unable to help himself, he stayed nearby, energetically hidden, watching her reaction as she jumped back to awareness. Leaning on her elbows, she looked around the room, then at the clock.
It was three a.m.
A red light was coming in through the narrow slit between her drapes. As soon as Merc saw it, he knew what it was, but she’d seen it too. He tried to block it from her, but the Matchmaker was strong, stronger even than Liege. Perhaps Santo was the only mutant Merc knew whose skills might rival that of the fiend.
Ash got up to peek through the drapes. Merc felt the wave of anger that washed through her. She knew the Matchmaker and felt he was stalking her.
Where else had she seen him? Their shared nightmare while he was in a coma, yes. But her reaction to him was too strong for that to be the only time.
She threw off the blankets and stomped through her house to the front door, which she yanked open. “What do you want?” she shouted at the Matchmaker. “Why are you stalking me?”
Merc felt a wash of pride slam through him. Damn, she was brave for a regular female.
Belatedly, she seemed to realize the precarious situation she was in. She tried to back up and hurry into her house, but the Matchmaker held her frozen in place.
Merc stepped in front of her as the Matchmaker floated across the street and through her gate. Clearly, he was only there in astral form, but given how powerful he was, she wasn’t a match for him in any state.
Merc could feel waves of terror radiating off Ash. The Matchmaker leaned around him, bringing his face level with Ash’s as he said, “He is real. And he is yours.”
Straightening, the fiend glared at Merc. “And she is yours. Deny the bond at your own peril.”
Merc grinned. “Bring it, fiend. I accept my death gladly. But leave her alone.”
Instantly, the red glow flashed out as the Matchmaker disappeared, releasing his hold on her. Merc lifted her and carried her back inside the house to her room, where he set her on her bed.
It was Merc’s fault that the Matchmaker had come tonight—the fiend had sensed them together. It didn’t help that Ash’s psychic skills were impressive, far stronger than those of most regulars. He was going to have to be very careful around her if he was going to hand the Matchmaker his first defeat.
Brett went to Austin, Texas, in search of the travel vloggers who shot the video he’d seen bits of on the internet. It was clearly an amateur production, but judging from its popularity, that was a big part of its charm.
There were five people in the shoot that night. The four that ran the vlog and another female he couldn’t identify. Her face was always out of the light or her back was to the camera. Why the secrecy? Maybe because of her extreme reaction to that last pit. She’d had some sort of a vision, he was certain, though he’d only seen a seconds-long preview.
Brett wanted to know what she saw.
He met up with the video bloggers at their small rented studio in a garage one of their parents owned. They were excited to chat with him, especially given the fake credentials he showed them and the money he promised if the clips were useful.
The guy named Larry played the same video that had been published online, but Brett wanted to see all of their footage. They’d planned to roll it out slowly, in fifteen-minute portions that were to culminate with the unknown woman’s episode in the pit, which they’d shown teasers of in several clips.
Brett asked them to jump to that portion of the video. He had them zoom closer. He could sometimes read a person’s mind just by the energy surrounding them at the time the footage was shot, but not this time.
“Who is the girl?” Brett asked.
“Just another traveler who tagged along with us to Valle de Lágrimas.”
Brett turned his full attention on Larry. “Her name, please.”
“Ashlyn DeWinter. She’s from Colorado.”
Brett got up. “Thank you.”
“Wait,” Larry said, stopping him. “What about the video? Are you interested? You can remix it how you like.”
“I’ll let you know.”
Brett left. It was a short cab ride to the state capitol downtown, where he could catch a pod ride north. He would soon learn how useful Ashlyn would be.
It was Wednesday again. This week, Ash had asked the girls for a quiet get-together at her place. She forced a smile as she looked at Summer and Kiera sitting in her living room, reminding herself to act like everything was fine, like it was perfectly normal to have an infatuation with an imaginary lover.
At her age.
Or at all.
She set a charcuterie tray next to the hummus and crudités she’d prepared. After refilling their wine glasses, she sat next to Kiera on the sofa.
“This is a nice treat,” Summer said. “I don’t know why we don’t do quiet evenings more often.”
“It’s so relaxing here,” Kiera said as she curled her feet under her. “Your garden is going to be beautiful this year. I can already see some spring flowers trying to come up.”
Ash rubbed the glass medallion around her neck. She couldn’t do this. Nothing was normal. She was not fine. “How easy is it to lose one’s mind?”
Summer choked on her celery. Kiera dabbed at a bit of wine she’d spat out.
“I can’t get that guy from Colombia out of my mind. I just can’t. I dream about him. Lucid dreams. He feels real.”
“Oh,” Summer said as she and Kiera exchanged glances.
“Exercise helps,” Kiera offered.
“I’m spending an hour or more at the gym every night after work.”
“Look, come out to the fort this weekend,” Summer said. “We’ll have a pool party. Everyone’s home, so you can meet the whole crew. They’re all really nice. It’ll be a good distraction.”
“That sounds nice.” Kiera smiled. “Let’s do that.”
“I’m not done avoiding people,” Ash said.
“But that’s letting you live in your head too much,” Summer said.
Ash gave her friends a worried look. “I’m not making him up.” She unfastened her necklace. “I should have shown this to you before. I bought this at the market the day after my vision in the pit. Supposedly, it contains the saint’s blood. You know I can sense things sometimes when I touch them; well, I get a powerful hit every time I hold this.” She handed it to Summer.
“Huh.” Summer handed it to Kiera.
“And I have proof that guy was once real.” Ash went to her bookshelf and picked up the utility knife. “I found this in the pit, right after my vision. It has his name carved on the side, the same name as the village saint.”
Summer gasped. “Oh. My. God.” She handed it to Kiera.
“What the hell?” Kiera growled after reading the inscription.
Why were they acting as if they finally believed her?
Summer sent her a worried look. “Ash, Merc is real. He’s one of Sam’s friends. He lives at the fort. I had no idea it was he you’ve been referring to.”
Ash began pacing around the room. Oh God. He was real. “He’s alive? He’s okay? He didn’t die?”
Summer shook her head. “He came back from Colombia very sick. He’s been recovering for weeks. He’s still weak.”
“Was he in Valle de Lágrimas?” Ash asked.
“I don’t know. I can find out.”
Kiera put Ash’s necklace on the table. “The knife would seem proof he was there. But, Summer, it still doesn’t explain what happened in the village. Sam’s friend can’t set miracles or curses. No one can do that.”
Summer and Kiera exchanged a long look. What was it that they knew that Ash didn’t?
“Okay,” Summer said, her voice determined. “For real. We are having a pool party. You can meet Merc and see for yourself who and what he is.”
Ash bit her upper lip to keep herself from smiling. “I would really love not to be crazy, but I’m scared to meet him.”
�
�Why?” Kiera asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve made him into something—someone—so much bigger than life.”
“It’s settled, then.” Kiera laughed. “Dig out your skimpiest bikini, and we’ll all see his reaction to you.”
13
Ash rode with Kiera out to the pool party at the fort. Her excitement grew the further from town they drove. The fort was almost an hour east. When they finally arrived, Summer came running out. It was late afternoon on a Saturday, and though the days were longer than they had been all winter, the sky was already softening toward dusk. They had purposely come out during the daylight—it was strangely easy to miss the right dirt roads at night on the drive out.
That buzz Ash had been feeling grew to a hum in her ears as she got out of the van. She didn’t give it much attention, figuring it was her own nerves that caused her energy to tighten. She wondered if Merc knew she was coming, but that was silly. Of course he knew, and why would he care? For all he knew, she was just another of Summer’s friends.
Summer hugged both of them, then stood back and gave Ash a once-over. “You look stunning! He won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.” She giggled in excitement.
Ash wore a slim, dark blue sundress that had a print of pink and white flower sprigs, spaghetti straps, and a scoop neck. Over it, she wore a short white cotton sweater. She was a little cold at the moment, but they’d be inside, where it was warm. It had taken her hours to decide what to wear. Her bed was loaded with discarded options. She smoothed her hands over her hips. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Kiera and Summer hooked their arms through hers and led her forward. They went into the fort, then through the kitchen and dining room to the long living room, where a group of people were already gathered.
O-Men: Liege's Legion - Merc Page 12
