by A. K. Koonce
Her lips pull into a full smile, white teeth and beautiful features that are too hard to look away from. Even their perfect smile is similar.
“Smart mouthed, funny, sexy, witty.” She acts like she’s reading a grocery list off in her head. “At some point the words great tits came up and that’s officially when I stopped listening to him.”
Aww he said I was witty.
Her smile fades and she looks up at me once more. Moonlight shines against the long strands of her crimson hair, such a contrast to Jameson’s golden locks. The serious look in her gaze sinks right into me.
“You like him?” All teasing pleasantries are paused as she stares hard at me, waiting and judging my response.
“Too much.” My breath catches as I say that. It’s true. I care about him so much it hurts. I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about these men.
“Good.” The hardness of her gaze softens just slightly. “He’ll need you to remind him of that when he wakes up tomorrow and that manipulated fantasy I put in his head crashes back into a painful reality.”
A stabbing pain sinks into my heart.
I’m terrified of what tomorrow will bring.
A sharp breath slices through his teeth, his handsome face scrunching up the moment Scarlett pulls away her power that’s veiling his mind. The agonizing screams of yesterday still echo in my mind as I wait with steel lining my spine for him to open his eyes.
My heart stutters and starts again when his lashes flutter. He looks up to the high ceilings over head. The man who healed him, Mars came early this morning to check on him. The six of us stand around his bed. Not a sound is made.
“Scar—” Her name is a rasping sound on Jameson’s lips and my hand squeezes tighter from the gravelly tone of his voice.
“Yeah.” She kneels onto the side of the mattress the moment her brother speaks.
“Did you remove the veil?” He blinks slowly before opening his eyes once more. He never once looks at me. He doesn't look at any of us. Over and over against he opens and closes his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s gone.”
“I can’t—I can’t fucking see out of my left eye.” His eyes close once more and his jaw clenches so hard I swear he might break it.
“Anything? You can’t see anything?” A tremble cuts through my words and I lean closer to him, almost resting my temple against that cruel scar that slices down his sweet face.
“I—I can’t breathe.” His hand tears away from mine, pulling himself fully away from me until he’s sitting up in the bed. The blanket dips down to his waist as he shoves his hands over his face and releases a long, heavy breath.
Long fingers trace over the wide lashing scar. He quietly follows the jarring line from his hairline all the way down to the edge of his jaw.
“Does it hurt?” Mouse’s voice is calm, patient. Everything that I’m not right now.
Quietly Jameson nods, still not looking up at any of us.
“I have something for the pain downstairs. It’ll take a few days for the swelling to subside.” Mars’ statement demands my attention.
“Will his vision come back once the swelling is gone?” There’s so much hope in my voice. I’m staring at this man like he holds all the power in the world as I wait for his confirmation.
But the hesitancy he gives me isn’t reassuring at all. His dark eyes hold a sympathetic look that tells me everything I need to know.
“It’s… possible.”
I understand his simple statement fully. Possible. But not likely.
The low pull of Jameson’s shoulders holds all of my attention. My fingers skim against his arm but the moment I touch him he shifts. He pushes from the blankets until he’s standing next to Scarlett. He stares at his sister for a moment and I see it when her eyes trail over the line etching his face.
That’s all it takes to trigger him.
“I’m going for a walk.” He storms past Tylin. The railing shakes when he stumbles into it. His feet thunder down the weak boards of the stairs and in a matter of seconds the front door slams behind him.
No one speaks. Rory shakes his head slowly.
“I wish there was more I could do.” Mars looks to Mason as he turns to leave.
Mason nods to his friend but the hurt in his features is clear.
I feel that hurt deep inside myself. It’s breeding with every passing second. It captures my breath, tightens my throat, and stings my eyes.
Scarlett was wrong; Jameson needs more than just my affection.
Right now, I don’t know what he needs.
But it’s more than I have.
Thirteen
Love is Blind
“Come to bed,” Mason whispers. Strong hands clasp over my shoulders. He squeezes the muscles slowly, his thumbs kneading and massaging the tension in my posture. I sit staring blankly at the television while he lingers behind the couch, his fingers drifting up my neck before rubbing down my spine.
“I’m just going to wait up a little longer.”
“He just needs some time.” His lips press to the side of my temple, his warm hands slipping down my arms to wrap himself around me and I lean into his touch. For several seconds he just holds me. “Don’t let it eat away at you.”
My palms cling ahold of his strong forearms that are crossed over my chest. Emotions swell within in me and I can’t even reply to him.
His lips skim against my jaw before he whispers in my ear. “Good night.”
He slips away.
Then I’m alone.
Scarlett sleeps on the bottom bunk bed in the back corner. Rory snores softly in the bed above hers. Tylin went out hours ago to follow up on Allison. I’d finally relayed the information about her heading into the League’s house. Their headquarters. But I can’t worry about her right now. My hands and heart are full enough. I’ve got no room left to spare.
I was so set on finding her. Saving her, even if it was from herself. I was determined to finish this case as quickly as possible. Now it’s not even a thought in my mind.
All I can think about is the scared look in Jameson’s pale eyes. And the way he pulled away from me.
A creaking sound of old hinges cries through the room as the front door slowly pushes open. His boots sound heavy as they stumble against the flooring in a poor attempt at trying to sneak in. His back leans against the old door. He leans there for several seconds, looking up at the dark ceiling. Moonlight casts over his features in a hauntingly beautiful way. The strong curve of his jaw is held tightly, the muscles clenched, as he just stares up at something beyond. He stays like that for so long I can’t find it in me to speak and break his tranquility.
“I’m sorry, Lex.” His lashes blink slowly and then he’s looking right at me.
At this distance, I can’t see the line that scars the far side of his face. All I can see is the pain in his gaze. The heavy draw of his shoulders. The beaten way he’s standing before me.
I can’t stand up from my curled up position on the couch. He pulled away from me twice. All anyone’s said today is how much space he needs. And I understand that. I won’t push him. Neither of us moves. We keep the several feet of distance between us.
“I—I tried to use my power today. It fucking almost roasted a flock of birds instead of the stop sign I was aiming for.” A waning smile is cut off by a wince. “Everything feels off. The whole damn world feels off. But it’s not. It’s just me.”
He moves to push off the door. Frustration locks his jaw closed as he strides swiftly toward the stairs, ending our little conversation before I can even reply.
“Jameson,” I unfold myself from the couch and I’m on my feet in a second, my footfalls padding quickly after him. I just barely grip his wrist before he gets to the staircase. “Will you just wait. Please.” My heart hurts and I hate that I don’t know how to make this better for him.
He won’t turn to look at me. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye passes my way but he won’t turn to
fully face me.
But he does wait.
And suddenly I don’t know what the hell to say. There’s nothing. There isn’t anything I could say to make this better for him.
All I can give him is my honesty.
“You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met.” A cracking sound breaks through my words and I almost smile at how pathetic my words are. “Your confidence is magnetic. You’re charming when you try to be. Even sweeter when you want to be. You’re powerful and tactical. Far better than just what Armond teaches regular assassins. You’re incredible, Jameson.”
I love you.
Fuck. I love him. And I can’t stop myself from telling him.
“Jameson, I—”
“None of that matters, Lex.” He turns to me then. His gaze is cruel and not at all filled with the sweet emotions that are swarming me. The scar jutting down his face makes his gaze colder. “My attractiveness, my fucking powers. None of that matters now. I can’t fucking see out of one eye.” His voice shakes with pent up aggression, and I flinch at the harshness of his tone. “I can’t use that tactful power within me. Simply being awake hurts. I’m so fucking useless right now that all I can do is sleep. But I can’t even do that because you’re here. Reminding me of who I was yesterday.”
“That’s enough!” Rory’s voice booms over the anger lacing Jameson’s words.
My hand drops away from him, and I step back like his words slapped across my face rather than my reckless emotions. Dampness stings my eyes when I look to Rory standing just a few feet away in the darkness. I blink it all away but the water slips down my cheeks anyway.
“Alexa.” Gentle fingers touch to my wrist, but I pull away from Jameson, striding as far away as this shitty little apartment will allow.
The bathroom door bangs against the wall as I walk past and I slam it shut just as fast. In the darkness I slide my back down the cold wall until I hit the ground. A rush of shaking breaths tremble out of me and now that no one’s here to see, I can’t hold in the emotions anymore.
Hot tears streak down face and I let them fall freely.
I let myself love him. I let myself get attached to him, and I fucking let myself fall in love with him.
I had all this time to tell him. All those moments full of teasing laughter and fucking friendship. But I waited until he lost sight of himself. And now I don’t even know how to talk to him.
His hateful words continue to pummel at my mind. I almost laugh at how horribly ironic it all is.
They say love is blind.
So is hate, it seems.
Fourteen
Unlikely Friends
The pink flesh that divides down the center of his left brow leads a jagged trail all the way to the strong line of his perfect jaw. I never realized how tragically handsome Jameson is. I also never realized how much anger he’s truly capable of.
The coldness of his gaze lands on me with a hard expression that only pulls at his scar even more. His lips part. Regret is heavy in his features. For a moment hope beats into my chest, for just a moment, I think he’ll say something to me.
Until the door slams shut behind him and he walks out. Just as he did yesterday.
Scarlett storms through the loft and stalks after him, shutting the door just as hard, if not harder than her brother did.
Hope fades out into a shadowy thing that lingers in my heart, waiting patiently. I just wish he would talk to me. I wish I knew what to say.
He… he’s my best friend. I’ve never had a friend before, having a best friend, is a big fucking deal. Not to mention all my other messy emotions swirling farther and farther down a dark hole in my chest.
It’s all screwed up.
My eyes feel puffy and dry but I only drink down more coffee in hopes that it’ll make me feel better.
“Just let him sulk. He’ll figure shit out soon enough.” Rory lifts his big hands as if he might touch me, but he lowers them just as quickly.
There’s a pitying look in his eyes. Dark brows pull low over his gaze and several seconds pass with us just standing absently in the silence. Rory’s bad at talking. He really is. It appears he’s just as terrible at comforting someone.
Mase and Tylin have been busy all morning. I think they’re making a breakthrough on the case, but I don’t have the energy to ask. Jameson won’t talk to anyone. So that leaves Rory and me. Staring awkwardly at one another and trying to figure out how we coexist.
“Why are you afraid to unleash what’s inside?” My fingers encircle around the large, warm mug full of reviving coffee as I study him. Rory is pure strength, a mountain of a man. The power that lives inside him is the strongest I’ve ever seen. “Are you afraid of hurting yourself?”
His hesitation to use that deadly energy is what fucked Jameson over in the end. Rory could have ended all of this without lifting a finger. Derek never would have had the chance to do… whatever the hell it was he did with Jameson’s power.
He lingers there at the edge of the couch, not sitting down but not moving closer to me either. For a moment he just considers my question. I wonder if he knows he screwed up. I wonder if he admits it even to himself.
“I’m not afraid of hurting myself. I’m… terrified of hurting everyone else.”
The way my heart skips a beat at the sound of his admission is painful. Still neither one of us comes any closer to the other. We keep a nice amount of space between us. Just enough for unspoken words to lie between us.
I sit my big mug down on the coffee table in front of me.
“I just don’t understand, I know what your power feels like. I wasn’t used to it when I did use it, but I know it’s a manageable feeling if you just tried.”
“You don’t know.” The growl in his voice hums through the room. “From what I understand, you collect the energy we release, right?” He doesn’t give me time to nod, confirm, or elaborate. “The energy I release is a meager amount of the power that I keep locked away, Alexa. So the next time you want to criticize my decision not to fucking obliterate the only people I care about, don’t.” His jaw clenches closed. He isn’t screaming. He’s not even angry, I don’t think. His voice doesn’t portray that cutting rage that Jameson’s held last night. The simple comparison of the two men makes me realize Rory isn’t aggressive he’s just on edge. The tension held in his posture, the snap of his words, the constant strain of his muscles all make sense now.
I feel like a total asshole.
“Does it hurt?” The tone of my voice is barely a whisper. It’s an apologetic sound.
“Every day. It feels like my nerves are weighted, pressing in on my organs.” His breath is a heavy release that makes his chest rise and fall. “When I was little I used to think my power would be the death of me.”
“And now?”
“I still believe that. I just don’t think about it any more.”
My brows raise and no matter how hard I look at him, he doesn’t meet my eyes. This right here, right now, this is the most we’ve ever said to one another.
Suddenly, I understand him more than I ever have. Rory lives in pain and instead of telling someone, talking about the biggest part of his life, he ignores it.
“You should try to find a way to manage it, Rory. Keeping it all in and pretending it doesn’t exist is going to literally blow up in your face.”
“You think I haven’t tried? It’s like there’s no middle ground. It’s hard to expel a little without flooding the dam.”
My lips part but I can’t find a rebuttal for his logic. It does sound dangerous.
“What if it wasn’t expelled? What if it was siphoned?” I stand and take a single step closer and the space we kept in place between us disappears.
He searches my eyes for the first time, truly looking at me with his deep emerald gaze. There’s something so pure in the depths of the mossy color. It’s something I’ve never really noticed about him.
Because I’ve never looked.
“Don’t. Don’
t try to fix my life, Alexa. I’m fine.”
“Clearly.” My palm press to my hips as I stare up at him, and the stance alone seems to piss him off.
It amazes me how easily I get under his skin.
“This is either going to end with you getting hurt or both of us.” His lips purse and the small detail makes me realize he’s annoyed that he’s already lost this argument, and he knows it.
“I’m a big girl, I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think I was capable of taking the power on.” That’s a fucking lie, I have no idea exactly how much energy I’m able to sustain. But that nagging amount of fear doesn’t stop me from wanting to help him.
And I don’t pause to consider why that is.
My hand raises between us and he watches it as if my red nails are weapons with deadly intent. The index finger of my right hand tics slightly as I extend it forward. He watches it closely as I make the smallest amount of contact with the center of his chest. The white shirt is tight across his broad shoulders. Up and down his inhales and exhales shift the steady touch of my finger against his body.
It’s such a meager amount of contact. It’s intentional really. I’m not stupid enough to take his powers on full force. But if I could just trickle it out slowly, maybe I could see when he feels less… pain.
Energy sparks against my fingertip. The moment I feel the sting of it, I latch on to the sensation. It pools out of him slowly, washing into me with a warmth that twirls up my arm and through my chest, sending chills all over my body.
Dark lashes flutter against his cheekbones, but he keeps his gaze locked on the determined look in my eyes.
I know I can help him.
We’re a team. I’m his team. I’m—I’m his friend.
And I will help him if no one else.
More of that power surges painfully through my veins. It’s a strange sensation. It feels like adrenaline rushing, spiking, ripping through me. It isn’t a brooding energy that rises. No, Rory’s power consumes.
