by Anna Durand
Words fled from her mind, dragging all her thoughts with them.
"He wants your power, and he'll stop at nothing to get it." Tesler's lips tightened into a grim smile. "He'll destroy the world to get to you, sweet girl."
David tugged her against him. "How do we stop Nkosi?"
Tesler shook his head. "You can't. Nothing can stop him."
"We will." David dug a zip tie out of his pocket. "I stole this off one of the sleeping beauties. I think it's about time you experienced the delight of being a prisoner."
The acid in his tone prickled Grace's nerves. She understood his anger, shared it in part, but she doubted she could ever grasp the extent of what Tesler inflicted on him and the others in the Mojave Desert facility.
David skirted around her, grabbed Tesler's wrists, and secured the nylon band of the zip tie around them. As he ratcheted the ties tighter, the nylon pinched Tesler's flesh, and he winced.
She settled a hand on David's arm. "Easy."
His eyes traveled to hers, their blue color sharpened by an angry glint. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. She swallowed, curling her fingers around his arm. He exhaled a long breath that deflated his shoulders and quenched the searing heat in his eyes. With a swift jerk of the zip tie, he herded Tesler toward the door.
As she trailed behind them, an odd niggling started up in her gut. What would David do if he got Tesler alone? Her vision from two days ago flashed through her mind. David on his knees. Tesler slashing a knife down at his chest. Blood. Death.
It won't come true. We've changed things, haven't we?
That might've been wishful thinking. For the moment, though, she decided to believe it — but keep vigilant anyway.
Sean and Amador brought up the rear of their little procession out of the facility. They departed via the elevator and up through the metal shed, nothing more than a husk to cover up what lay beneath. The trek through the woods, to the vehicle Amador had acquired — rented or stolen, she didn't care anymore — consumed more time than her frayed nerves could handle. By the time they parked on the airport runway alongside Amador's jet, she was wringing her hands and chewing the inside of her bottom lip. Bile churned in her gut and pushed up into her throat.
David handed his prisoner over to Sean and Amador, who steered Tesler in the direction of the jet's air stairs. Their footfalls created only the barest sound on the asphalt. David positioned himself in front of her and hovered his hands near her forearms without making contact, as if he feared touching her. The sun, dimmed by thin layer of clouds, cast shadows on his eyes but could not hide the tension on his face.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "It's more than what Tesler said about Nkosi."
"Yeah." She hunched her shoulders. "I saw Tesler murder you. And now he's with us."
"Would you rather I kill him?"
Her head snapped back, in sync with the massive thud of her heart. The matter-of-fact way he'd suggested murdering someone…
David hooked her forearms and drew her closer, their bodies inches apart. She tilted her head up, and he inclined his. "I wouldn't kill him unless he tried to hurt one of us. You know that — or you should." His thumbs rubbed her flesh in vigorous circles. She must've flinched, because he looked abashed for split second, then let up on the pressure, the movements mellower and almost sensual. "Don't you know I'm not a cold-blooded killer?"
Less a question than a plea. "I don't know anything anymore."
"Yes you do." He tucked her into his embrace, with their foreheads resting on hers. His breaths tickled her skin. "You're blocking our connection, or at least trying not to feel it. Aren't you?" When she gave a tiny nod, he sighed. "Why? What are you afraid of? Is it me?"
"No." She meant it too. "I'm worried about what you might do to Tesler if you get the chance. He — he tortured you. For months. I know you're not a killer, but if Tesler starts taunting you and there's nobody else around… "
"You think I'll kill him."
"I… " Her eyes locked onto his, homing in on the familiar fire there. "I'm not sure. But I don't want you to do it. You'll regret it for the rest of your life, and I couldn't stand to feel that happening to you. So yes, I'm blocking our link."
He shut his eyes, and his hands roved over her back, comforting rather than arousing. She looped her arms around his waist and leaned into him. He said, "You know me. You know I would never murder anyone in cold blood. But you're scared, I get it, because Nkosi is out there with an army and Tesler planted a seed of doubt. He made you think what happened to Nkosi might be your fault." His eyes focused in on hers. His hands stilled. "Let it go, Grace. Embrace our connection. Invite me into your soul again and I swear you won't regret it."
He was already there, inside her. She'd tried to ignore it, to box it up in a corner of her psyche, but his passion and adoration refused to be contained. It surged through her, a firestorm blustering into every crevice of her being. His mouth descended over hers, and she surrendered to the kiss, completely, granting him all of herself in the melding of their hungry lips.
Stop being afraid.
His ardor, witnessed in every thrust of his tongue and slant of his mouth on hers, vanquished the tatters of her fear. The heat evaporated the cold. It suffused her from head to toe, inside and out, until nothing mattered except him.
"Watch out!"
Sean's scream ruptured their passion. David yanked his head up, his narrowed gaze flying to a spot behind her. His body went stiff.
She pulled out of his arms and whirled to look.
A hunter green Jeep roared toward the fence that hemmed in the runway. It crashed into the barrier with a clanging pow and slashed a hole in the fence. The Jeep plowed through the opening, fishtailed, and rocketed straight toward her and David.
He seized her arm and dragged her toward the jet. "Into the plane. Hurry."
They bolted for the air stairs. Before they could clamber halfway up the steps, the Jeep blasted into the stairs.
The wheeled structure spun sideways. She lurched, flailed for a handhold, and sailed out into open air.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
David thwacked into the ground on his side. Pain snapped out through his shoulder and hip, radiating out into the rest of his body. White lights punctured his vision. Behind the glare, he spotted a slender shape slumped on the ground. Chestnut hair spilled over a pale face. She lay limp on her side, one leg bent across the other in an awkward pose.
"Grace!"
She did not move.
No, goddammit. He hoisted his torso off the ground and propped his weight up with one arm. Fresh agony wrung his muscles and rooted him in place. He stared at Grace, where lay motionless on the asphalt, near the front wheel of the jet. He saw no blood. That was good, wasn't it?
Go get her, you raging idiot.
His body screamed when he shifted his weight, but he gritted his teeth and heaved himself off the ground.
"You okay?" Sean called from the open door of the jet.
"Yes."
"Engines won't start."
"What?" David's head snapped up. "What happened to the engines?"
"I think somebody fried them."
A psychic somebody. Nkosi's army had begun the siege.
From further down the runway, an engine roared.
He stumbled left, until he could peer around the stairs.
The Jeep was back, and it tore across the tarmac straight at Grace.
Damn the pain. He bolted for her and collapsed to his knees beside her slack form. When he carefully pressed a finger into her neck, her heartbeat pulsed strong and steady against it. He palpated her head and neck in a cautious exploration, but discovered no open wounds, just a small bump on her head. Her lips fluttered on a muffled moan.
He sank back on his heels, one hand on his forehead. The heaviness of dread whooshed away, and h
e teetered from the release. She'd be okay. Thank you, God.
The Jeep roared.
Christ. Lost in his worry for her, he'd completely forgotten about the maniac in the Jeep.
He scooped Grace into his arms and raced away, in a direction perpendicular to the Jeep's line of travel. The air stairs had skidded too far from the jet's door, and he couldn't waste time wrestling the contraption back into position. The driver of the Jeep wouldn't sit idle for a timeout. David angled across the runway, toward the hole the Jeep sliced into the fence. Get Grace to safety. The single goal drove him onward, despite the searing pain in his limbs, despite the throbbing in his skull. Up ahead, a gray metal hanger squatted in a wide, empty tract of land, its enormous doors shut. He sprinted for the smaller, human-size door at the building's corner.
The weight of Grace ripped the muscles in his arms. He clutched her to his chest, gasping and grunting. He wouldn't drop her. He would never let her go, no matter what.
The Jeep's engine snarled behind him.
Fixated on the door, he pumped his legs harder, faster, heedless of the pain and the black spots in his vision. Save her, save her, save her. Adrenaline spiked through his veins, sharpening his senses, until he was certain he smelled the sun's heat. Save her, save her. The door swelled bigger and bigger in front of him.
A clanging crash erupted behind him.
He resisted the impulse to look. The Jeep had bashed into the fence again, the driver hell-bent on annihilating the precious cargo in David's arms.
Tires squealed.
At the hanger door, he shifted his hold on Grace just enough to seize the knob and wrenched it. Locked. Dammit.
He stumbled backward one, pulled in a deep breath, and kicked the door as hard as he could. It burst inward, cracking into the wall and bouncing back. He shoved past the door, into the gloom of a deserted hallway. He gave on cursory scan of the environs, to verify nobody was around, and then took down the hall, into the unknown.
A shaft of muted sunlight spilled out of a room to his left. He veered through the open doorway into a small office. A chair with a high back faced a metal desk. His legs burned, his chest ached, and his arms quivered around Grace. He dropped into the chair and cradled her limp, soft body in his arms.
She stirred a little, mumbling words he couldn't understand.
His heart leaped at the sound of her voice. She was alive and awake — sort of. Better sort of than not at all. He combed his fingers through her hair, sweeping it away from her face. A whispery moan escaped from her parted lips. He skimed his thumb across her pink mouth. She snuggled into him, as if they were napping in bed together.
If only. Instead, they were hiding out from a crazed individual controlled by an evil entity — or energy, or whatever the hell Nkosi was. He should go check on their pursuer, but that obligated him to leave her here.
Blood rushed in his ears. His hands trembled as he tugged her closer, unwilling to break the contact yet.
The Jeep was still out there. So were Sean and Amador, and Tesler. He must stop the assault. But he knew of only one way, and it required him to appropriate Grace's power without her consent. She couldn't consent, because she was dazed or unconscious. He couldn't tell which. In either case, to stop the Jeep and its driver, he needed an influx of her power.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair.
"Mmm."
Her mumbled noise might've signified consent, or maybe he was so desperate he'd latch onto anything he might interpret as permission. It didn't matter. He must do this.
Please understand.
David untethered his mind from his body and rushed into the crossroads, where he commandeered all the energy he could. It wasn't enough. He tapped into his link to Grace and let her power fill in the gaps, until the psychic energy glowed inside him, ripe and ready. Then he plummeted back to the physical plane, steering his mind away from his body. He glimpsed himself slumped in the chair, Grace cuddled against him.
It's all for you.
His mind flew out of the building.
The Jeep screeched to a halt mere feet from the door he'd kicked in moments earlier. The driver's door swung out. A man in camouflage fatigues jumped out, his boots thumping on the asphalt. His ashen skin, a contrast to his blue lips, shimmered with a glaze of sweat. Psychic energy roiled out of the man to lick at the air with invisible tongues. This man commanded metaphysical power, yes, but a weakened version of it. No match for David.
The man shuffled toward the door. In his right hand, he wielded a gun.
David hurled everything he had at the man. The intruder flipped backward and whacked into the ground on his back. His eyes rolled up in his head. Dead?
He hadn't meant to kill the man. He was a puppet, after all, tortured in ways even David couldn't fathom. But the man looked… no. Not dead. David hurried toward the unmoving man, and for the first time he cursed his inability to manifest. If he had a body, he could render first aid.
Energy infused him, sweet and rich and potent, like… Grace.
His feet touched down on the asphalt. Solid feet. On solid ground. He tested his weight, bending his knees and bouncing a little. Yes, this body was real. He'd manifested, without Grace's direct help.
Yet she had helped him. In her semi-conscious state, she discerned his need and channeled more of her power into him to launch him into a manifestation. She was amazing.
God, he loved her.
David crouched beside the prone man and checked for a pulse in his neck. It thumped against his finger, strong but irregular. The man's skin chilled his, the clamminess transferred onto his flesh. He'd seen a man in this condition before. When Jackson Tennant pumped himself full of drugs to stimulate his latent psychic abilities, it left him sickly and pale as death, exactly like this man.
Nkosi's army had a flaw.
"Man, that's not fair. You can manifest without Grace's help now?"
David glanced up at Sean. The boy ducked through the gap in the fence to trot toward him. Amador escorted a bound Tesler in Sean's wake. David rose to greet them.
Sean's lips twisted into a teenage frown, rife with disgust at the injustice of just about everything. "Can Grace teach me to do that?"
"No."
"But you — "
"Still need her help to manifest. Trust me."
The boy slouched, his mouth tightening into a half-hearted pout. "It's not fair."
He slapped Sean's arm. "Get used to unfairness. That's life."
The boy grumbled.
"Who knows," David said, "one day your powers might expand and you may find yourself manifesting all over the place."
His expression brightened. "You really think so?"
"Sure." David pointed at the fatigue-clad man on the ground. "Keep an eye on him. I have to get back to Grace."
"Sure, man. We got this."
David released his hold on this body, on this location. He spiraled back into his real body, and the weight of Grace pressed into his chest anchored him to reality. He nuzzled her hair, drinking in the fresh scent of her. The eyes he cherished opened to focus on his, and he tumbled into those hazel irises.
She smiled, a lazy movement of her lips. "You rescued me again."
"Did I?" He traced his fingertip down her jawline, to the corner of her mouth.
"Yes, honey, you did."
He ran his finger over her lips. "Honey?"
She writhed, trying to sit up. Her buttocks ground into his lap, energizing parts of him that he didn't need to wake up right now.
He hopped to his feet, Grace in his arms, and deposited her on the floor.
She swayed a little, her smile going dreamy. "Would you prefer sweetie?"
"Call me whatever you want." He slanted his mouth over hers, delved deep to savor the taste of her. "As long as you're all right, I don't even care i
f you call me dumb-ass."
She giggled. "Dumb-ass?"
"I've been hanging around with Sean too much." He cupped her buttocks and tugged her into him. "But from here on out, I'm with you."
"Think you'll start talking like me?"
Another voice answered. "I sure hope not. That would be sooooo embarrassing."
David shook his head at Sean, but felt his lips curl upward at the corners. Anyone could call him anything and he wouldn't care. As long as he had Grace, nothing else mattered.
And so, right there in front of Sean and Amador and Tesler, he ravished her with a kiss that would've made a sex therapist blush. Just because he could. His quest for vengeance seemed a dim memory, a lapse in judgment he vowed to never repeat. He knew exactly what he had to do to make things right.
He parted his lips from her long enough to murmur, "Marry me. As soon as possible."
Her smile radiated into him. "Yes."
Grace wriggled, but instead of loosening his grip on her rear, David squeezed lightly. She let out a sharp squeak. "David, really."
"Yeah, man," Sean said from behind her. "At least spring for a hotel room before you start mauling her. I'm not old enough to watch porn. At least until September."
A volcanic blush raged in her cheeks. What had gotten into David?
Without relinquishing her, he leaned to the side to frown at Sean. "I thought I told you three to stay outside."
"The puppet dude is out cold — and I mean way cold."
David's fingers dug into her buttocks. "Dead?"
"Nah, but I don't think he's waking up anytime soon. Besides, we locked him in his own Jeep."
The tension eased out David, and he shifted his hands to her hips. Thank goodness. Maybe her cheeks would cool down without his hands all over her ass. If the rest of her half-melted body would follow suit, she might pretend her fiance hadn't made out with and fondled her in front of a live audience. She ought to chastise him, but it had felt so good she couldn't muster enough annoyance.
Instead, she patted his cheek. "You saved my life for the second — or is it the third? — time in one day. Feel better?"
