by Anna Durand
He died.
The realization prickled him from the inside out. A chill burgeoned in his heart, spreading outward, freezing his veins. Nkosi was dead too. But Sean, thank God, got away. He would find a hole to slip through, and flee the facility. The boy knew how to sneak around places like this.
Warmth trickled into David, the blood pumping through his body once again. He still couldn't see much, his vision blurred by the shock of the bright light and… whatever revived him. The energy flowing through him simmered with a familiar flavor. Sweet. Sharpened by electric pulses. It tingled on his skin, and saturated him to his core. His mood lightened, buoyed by an external source. A cocktail of relief and bittersweet bliss flooded into him.
Grace.
Her love infused his entire being, borne on the energy she funneled into him. She had resurrected him. Which meant only one thing.
The Golden Power.
Jesus, no. She shouldn't have risked it. Not for him, or anyone.
He sensed her nearby, her presence radiating over him like sunlight. The facility had gone eerily quiet. The hairs all over his body stiffened. The wrongness he detected a moment ago lingered in the air, almost palpable. He blinked furiously until the his vision cleared, and then he glimpsed her. His heart skipped.
Grace stood several feet from his chair. A breeze he could not feel stirred her dark auburn hair so that it billowed around her face in a silky curtain. Her fair skin seemed to glow from within. Her eyes, focused on him, glimmered with a golden light, the hazel irises bright as faceted jewels. A cool smile curved her lips.
She looked… stunning. He gulped against a lump in his throat. A ghost of desire flitted through him, but it fizzled out the instant she spoke. Her voice echoed from a distant void. "How do you feel?"
"Normal." He stared at her. He couldn't help it. She was beautiful beyond words, ethereal, and more remote than the stars. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." She flicked one finger, and his restraints evaporated. "But we should go. I trapped the scientists and security guards in another corridor. They'll figure a way out soon."
Someone moaned. David jerked his head left, toward the noise. Nkosi's chest rose and fell. His eyes drifted open, at first unfocused, then zeroing in on David.
Nkosi sat forward, scratching his head. "I thought I was shot, but I must've hallucinated it."
"No," David said, his tone calmer than the emotions roiling inside him. "You died. We both did."
Nkosi's cocked his head, eyes traveling to Grace. "This must be the darling girl Tesler mentioned. The one you spoke with in our cell?"
"Yeah." David waved a hand toward Grace, though he kept his gaze nailed to Nkosi. The energy spinning out from her licked at his psychic senses and bristled an intuition buried deep. "She, uh, saved us. Long story."
"I believe you." Nkosi's eyebrows arched as another wave of power gusted over Grace. Her hair fanned out around her. Nkosi threw a sidelong look at David. "The story must be quite interesting."
The man wanted to know, but he wouldn't press. David appreciated that. He hopped out of the chair and inched toward Grace, struggling to ignore the cold fist clenching around his heart.
Her luminous eyes rotated toward him.
A shiver sidled down his spine.
An arm's length from her, he halted. "What happened, Grace?"
She blinked in slow motion.
The fist choked his heart. She was lost in another place, somewhere between the here and now and the crossroads. The last time she exercised her powers, to build her psychic firewall, an unknown force attacked her, intent on dragging her into the abyss. Could he coax her back this time?
Did she want him to?
Yes, dammit, of course she did. He raised a trembling hand toward her face, but she backed away. Stony fingers dug into his heart. "Grace, talk to me. Please."
"I'm still in Texas. At Amador's house." She turned away from him and glided toward the door. "I'll explain everything later."
As he trailed her out of the room, a memory replayed in his mind. Six months ago, when he'd tracked Grace down in Texas, she demanded answers from him. And he'd promised to explain later. Standing on the other side of that statement today, he finally understood why it infuriated her back then. Starved for answers and suffused with dread, he needed her to talk to him. Yet she refused, with a coolness that terrified him.
With Nkosi close behind, David let Grace lead him down the maze of corridors. She strode around corners, through doorways, and down more corridors with a purpose and certainty beyond anything he'd witnessed in her. Grace always possessed an inner strength, more than even she realized, but this was different. The tendrils of her power snaked out around her, invisible, yet palpable to him. Slippery, viscous tongues of energy. They swirled around him, but never touched his psyche.
She was shielding him. From her power.
Hope burgeoned within him. If she maintained enough control to steer her energy away from him, then he still had a chance to drag her back from the void and free her from the Golden Power.
Once, he'd encouraged her to utilize the power. What a fool he'd been. Grace feared it, and now he understood why. He prayed it wasn't too late.
Grace halted before a set of massive steel doors. She raised a hand. "Stay back."
David scuffled backward a few yards, thrusting out an arm to block Nkosi from proceeding further.
She swept both hands up, palms to the ceiling, and threw her head back.
The doors groaned.
Energy assailed her. The outskirts of it sideswiped David, knocking him off balance. He stumbled backward. Nkosi seized his arm. David righted himself and gaped at Grace.
White light pulsed out of her in glittering curtains.
"What do you see?" Nkosi asked.
David tore his gaze from Grace long enough to frown at Nkosi. "Don't you see it? White energy coming out of her. It's everywhere."
"I see nothing." Nkosi fisted his hand and rubbed his thumb over the knuckles, his mouth tight.
The light skimmed David's flesh, filled his psyche, caressed his power. Dizziness crashed over him, reeling him backward. If not for Nkosi's hand on his arm, he would've tumbled to the floor. Passion and adoration streamed into him, tainted with desperation. The sheer magnitude of the power overwhelmed his psychic senses. Pains shot through his head. His knees buckled, striking the floor hard. Nkosi hefted him to his feet.
David's voice emerged in a strangled whisper. "I have to stop her."
"Perhaps I — "
"No. Has to be me."
Nkosi nodded.
Hunched over, David staggered toward Grace. The energy ripped into him with ferocious force. His hand trembled as he stretched it out to grasp her shoulder. Scorching desire bolted out of her into him. His knees threatened to crumple again.
The steel doors burst open.
Beyond them, crimson bulbs lit a tunnel carved out of the earth.
The light extinguished. The power pouring out of Grace dwindled from a raging torrent to a forceful stream. The pressure on David released a with near-physical rebound. The pain in his head faded. A trickle of desire wended its way through him, a faint tickle compared to the heat that incinerated him seconds earlier. How she could think of sex while channeling the ultimate source of psychic energy baffled him. Questions bounced in his brain, but he ignored all except one.
He tugged her shoulder. "Are you still with me, Grace?"
She turned toward him inch by inch. Her eyes glowed with less intensity, more like the luminescence brought on by harnessing normal psychic abilities.
Normal. He never dreamed he'd use that word to describe psychic faculties.
"I'm here," she said, and relief flooded into him at the sound — the normal sound — of her voice. Her gaze latched onto his. "Why are you sweating?"
&n
bsp; David swiped at his face. His hand came away damp. The sweat oozing from his pores hadn't registered before. Her energy consumed his every thought and swamped his senses. Grasping her shoulders, he searched her burning hazel eyes for some sign she'd come back to him.
Then it hit him. His hands gripped her flesh. Physical contact.
"You manifested," he said, unable to quell the shock in his voice, "and you're not curled up in a ball, riding out a migraine." In fact, she glowed with a preternatural vitality. He tugged her closer, desperate to spur a reaction from her. He got nothing. "Grace?"
"Yes, I manifested. So what? It's easy." Her breezy tone set his nerves on edge, but she charged on. "I have to get you three out of here quickly. The distraction I arranged won't keep Tesler or his men busy for much longer."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe. Trust me."
He trusted her without reservation. But with the Golden Power influencing her, he didn't know if he should.
She spun away from him, toward the steel doors.
"Wait," he said, seizing her hand. She glanced back. "Us three? It's only me and Nkosi."
A knowing smile curved her lips. "Just wait. I sent him directions."
"Who?"
Bang.
David whirled around. A ceiling panel had popped out, clattering to the floor. A pair of sneaker-clad feet dangled through the opening. Sean plopped onto the corridor floor, knees bent.
"Him," Grace said, and marched out the doors. "I retrieved Sean for you."
Stunned and immobile, David watched her backside retreat from him. No psychic he'd ever encountered commanded enough power and control to perform two tasks at once, much less three. From what Grace told him, though, he suspected she had. Locating and directing Sean. Setting up a distraction for Tesler and his minions. Freeing David and Nkosi. And she resurrected them too.
Make that four tasks at once.
Sean trotted past him. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he said, "Why do you look like your best friend died? We're escaping."
David tried to speak. Nothing came out.
Nkosi hurried after Sean and Grace. "We must go, David."
An eerie sensation prickled the skin at the base of his neck. Grace had amassed more psychic power than anyone should command. If he hadn't run out on her for the umpteenth time, she would never have needed to tap into the limitless power she'd feared for six months. The energy boost empowered her, for sure. But it also altered her, on a fundamental level.
It was his fault. He must cleanse her of this… infestation. Whatever happened, he would not give up on her without a fight. He'd rather die — again.
His top priority had always been, and always would be, her. From this moment forward, he must prove that fact to her. He'd save her, dammit, whether she liked it or not.
Squaring his shoulders, he took off down the tunnel.
It dead-ended at a much smaller set of double doors, constructed from steel and buttressed with concrete. The doors hung ajar, their edges warped. Grace must've unlocked both sets of doors at once, employing the limitless energy granted to her by the Golden Power. A frigid current trickled through his veins. Five tasks at once. Christ.
They pushed the deformed doors aside and clambered out into the night. Grace guided them onward, with a purpose and conviction that did nothing to alleviate his unease. She knew precisely where to go — down to the inch, he realized. Left at this tree, right at the next one, straight down a gentle grade and across a clearing. Their breaths condensed in the chilled air. He should've checked the weather forecast before waltzing out here in search of Tesler. Nothing except his desperate quest had stuck in his brain, not even Grace's warnings and her silent pleas for his help. He was such a fool. And a total ass.
Goose bumps prickled his arms, but try as he might, he couldn't dismiss them as a side effect of frosty air on his bare arms. The fabric of his T-shirt protected him somewhat, but left his arms exposed, since the guards had confiscated his jacket. Nkosi wore a long-sleeve T-shirt, and Sean had opted for the ultra-cool layered look with a long-sleeve shirt underneath his short-sleeve tee, granting him more protection than David had without his jacket. Both Sean and Nkosi rubbed their arms off and on, but neither shivered noticeably. David's teeth had begun to chatter, so he clamped his jaw tight. But as with his goose bumps, his clenched teeth stemmed from more than an attempt to ward off the outward chill. Another, deeper cold infiltrated his being.
And it centered on Grace.
He lost track of the minutes as they, with David in front, trailed Grace through the woods. East, west, north, south — he gave up trying to sort out the directions. Despite the gloom of night, pierced by only the occasional shaft of pale moonlight, their guide had no trouble navigating. The longer they trekked, the less David noticed the cold. His goose bumps disappeared, but the hairs at the nape of his neck remained stiff. Sweat beaded on his brow. The air chilled it within seconds, drawing the cold across his brow like a damp washcloth.
They broke out of the trees, heading down a hill into a clearing. A log cabin hunkered at the hill's base, near the other side of the clearing. The house was dark, more a shadow in the night than a beacon of hope and safety. Since Grace brought them here, though, he'd trust she knew what she was doing, even if he couldn't grasp the logic of it. They should've run as far as possible. Then again, how far would they get before Tesler's men caught up? This cabin must offer security, or else Grace would never have led them here.
At the cabin, they halted. A dirt two-track drew a line through the moon-lightened field, terminating at the roofed porch of the cabin. A stack of cut firewood, partially covered by a brown tarp, occupied one end of the porch. David saw no vehicles, no lights, no signs of habitation. Given the weeds and grass dotting the two-track, he surmised no one had visited the cabin in months, maybe longer.
Grace, positioned a few feet from the porch steps, waved a hand toward the front door. "You can hide here until morning. By then I'll have a plan to get you out of here."
Nkosi eyed the cabin with raised eyebrows. "Won't our enemies track us here?"
"No." Grace sounded far too certain, which scraped a steel file down David's spine. "I've obliterated our tracks and planted false clues to lead Tesler's men away from here. I've also permanently disabled the facility's electronics, as well as the mobile devices of everyone there tonight."
"Cool," Sean said, his tone rife with teenage wonder. "Can you teach me how to do that?"
David laid a hand on the boy's arm, urging him toward the cabin, and flashed Nkosi a look he hoped conveyed the import of his words. "You two go inside. I need to talk to Grace."
Sean balked, in typical rebellious boy fashion, but Nkosi grasped his upper arm and, with a gentle hand, guided him up the steps and across the porch. At the front door, he paused. "Perhaps we should gather some wood first?"
Grace shook her head. "There's enough inside to start a fire and keep it going for tonight. There's also a generator, but it's out of gas."
Nkosi gave a curt nod and twisted the door knob. It turned in his hand, unlocked. He made no comment on the open door, despite the curious twitch of his lips. Easing the door ajar, he entered first, with Sean close behind. Once the door clicked shut, David strode toward Grace, until inches separated them.
The whites of her eyes glistened in the moon's glow. Her expression conveyed such innocence and sweetness that, for a few ecstatic seconds, he forgot all about her shocking power and the dread coiling in his gut with each new feat she accomplished. In that fleeting moment, he gazed into the eyes of the only woman he'd ever loved. His true better half. His soul mate.
Then her psychic energy pulsed into him, electrified by the Golden Power, and shattered his serenity. Her love still warmed him, transferred into him by her telepathy, but the old chill resurfaced with a sharpness that scraped his nerves
raw. "You unlocked the door."
"Yes." The disturbing calmness in her voice had faded, but not vanished. "I took care of everything. You'll be safe tonight."
He cradled her face in his hands. "You do these things without even a hint of discomfort. No migraine. No anxiety. Nothing." He ducked his head close to hers, their breaths mingling. "It's the Golden Power doing this to you. But why aren't you afraid of it anymore?"
"Because I understand it now. It's a part of me, always has been, and I've accepted that."
The woman he knew would never accept it. "It's changing you. I can feel it."
She shrugged.
"Please, Grace, listen to me." He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, marveling how she felt so warm and normal on the outside when an oily darkness roiled within her. "You have to let it go. Stop channeling the Golden Power, before it changes you forever." His nose bumped hers, and his lips grazed her mouth. "Come back to me. Please."
"I am here."
No, she wasn't. Not fully. Her body brushed against his, her skin heated under his hands, but the part of her he cherished most lay smothered beneath her newfound power. Words failed to crack the granite-hard wall of psychic energy shielding her mind, her heart, her soul. No, dammit. He wouldn't surrender this battle.
He claimed her mouth in a possessive kiss as he thrust his hands into her hair, grasping the back of her head, slanting it up to press his lips harder into hers. Her soft lips opened for him. He forged deep inside, lost in the silky sweetness of her mouth, the answering strokes of her tongue. Her body arched into him. He glided one hand down her body, splaying his fingers across the small of her back, and yanked her snug against him. She rasped her nails up and down his chest. They scratched over his T-shirt, a rough tease on his flesh.
The world dropped away. They plunged into a private pocket of reality where the only sounds were their frantic breaths and hungry moans, the only sensation the rubbing of their bodies against each other and the hot, slick dance of their tongues. The passion blazing between them disintegrated guilt and fear and inhibition. The darkness fled from their psychic link, conquered by a scorching desire and a fierce love.
