Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by hamilton, rebecca

  She arched a brow. “Because I don’t like him. Because he tricked me into coming here. Oh, how about because he’s evil?” None of that was true. He wasn’t evil. He hadn’t tricked her, not really. And as for not liking him….

  It was one snotty hug, Lena. You’re acting like a child. Get over it already. He has.

  She just couldn’t bring herself to let go of her indignation yet. He’d brought her here and dumped her without another thought. He’d been back. There had been meetings with Councilor Five, even check-ins with Jackson. Not one word to Lena, though. Not even to knock and barge in and say, “Hello, how are you coping?”

  It had hurt, which was stupid because there had been nothing between them but a few days of intense drama and a bit of oversharing about mutual miserable childhoods. Then what she could only imagine was a deliberate slight had pissed her off. She decided to get over it as best she could—she’d enjoy the time she had here with the one person who did care whether or not she was coping. And she wouldn’t think about Reyes constantly. She sure as hell wouldn’t miss a man she barely knew.

  So stop it already, little idiot.

  Jackson shook his head, but his face stilled into seriousness. “Alejandro Reyes is a good man.”

  She snorted. “I think you’re confusing being good at what he does with being good. And any man who does what he does, as well as he does, is by definition not a good man. Someday you’ll be old enough to know that.” That much was true. She hadn’t reconciled what she knew and the stories she’d heard about his exploits with the poetry-quoting man who’d stuck his neck out for her over and over, even if he had hauled her to the last place on earth she’d have chosen.

  “I’m older than you are.”

  “Chronologically, yes. Not in the ways of the world, Ward Lee.” She folded the last quarter of bread around the end of a smooth-skinned sausage and submerged them in the syrup before leaning across the table so she could stuff the dripping mass into her mouth. She gave him a closed-mouth grin of contentment and hummed.

  Maple syrup was the true blue secret to happiness. She didn’t know why the Council of Nine didn’t ship it off to every Zone in big vats. If they did, all discontent and crime would disappear with the regular ingestion of the sticky perfection. Look at her: she was a happier girl already. As soon as she cleared her mouth, she told him so.

  He shook his head as if he could read her thoughts. He glanced up at her. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

  She smiled serenely, swirled her fork in the syrup and licked it from the tines. He did a double-take before he returned to his eggs, a slight flush creeping across the golden brown skin of his face. Hmmm. Thoughts of Reyes fled.

  That’s an interesting reaction, isn’t it?

  Jackson finished his eggs and then cleared his throat. “We should go get started, yes?”

  She dropped the fork onto her plate and helped him clean up the detritus of their meal. “Yes,” she laughed. “Absolutely.”

  She followed him to the out-of-the-way classroom they’d had her working in. They had started with teaching her centering and focus techniques. Washington wanted her to teach others to do what she could do. They hoped better control of her Spark would translate to being able to train others. So far, the attempt had been a resounding failure.

  No one had been able to duplicate any of her offensive skills. She’d heard that Reyes, in a single evening lesson, had taught a group of Senior Wards how to protect themselves from intrusions into their personal Dust. And Jackson had shown remarkable aptitude manipulating the Dust to heal. The men could learn new skills, they just couldn’t learn them from her. She suspected the failure had more to do with her lack of trust than with any lack of ability in herself or others.

  Which was as good an explanation as any as to why she could teach Jackson. She’d never met anyone as steady and reliable. She felt safe with him. She laughed to herself as she crossed the room and hitched herself up onto a tall desk. He didn’t always like how safe she felt with him.

  He had paused by the door to fiddle with a rattling air vent. He hated distractions while he worked. While his back was still turned, Lena pulled out the small knife she’d palmed at breakfast. He needed an ego boost after failing abysmally at every attempt to use the Dust offensively. She could give him that. What he couldn’t handle healing, she could take care of herself.

  She drew the blade across the inside of her hand. The skin parted and blood pooled in her cupped palm. Jackson turned at the sound of her soft gasp.

  She bit her lip. “New lesson.”

  He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. “I hate it when you do that.”

  “You can’t practice healing if you don’t have something to heal. You’re an amazing healer, Jackson. You’ll be better than me someday. You need the chance to practice.”

  “I don’t. Not if it means you hurt yourself.”

  “Well, done is done,” she said. “Are you going to come fix me or leave me to sit here and bleed?”

  “I should let you bleed.” He crossed to where she perched on the desk. He shook his head at her, a final admonishment before he took her hand in both of his. Even when angry, he had a gentle touch.

  As he focused, her hand warmed. Her flesh knit back together. When he finished, he exhaled in relief and rubbed his thumb across her palm. He continued stroking even after he’d rubbed away the blood.

  It felt good. It kept her focus solely on Jackson.

  He sighed. “Please don’t do that again.”

  She laughed. “You know if you couldn’t heal it, I could. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me. I don’t like the idea of you being hurt. There’s been enough pain in your life, dammit. You’re overdue to feel good for a change.”

  She’d been waiting for the opening. She flashed him a grin. “What did you have in mind?”

  He tried to lean back, but she shifted their grips and tugged on his hand to keep him close. She was small, but she was strong. And Jackson never put up much of a fight anyway.

  He sighed. The sound fell somewhere between frustrated and longing. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “Lena. This isn’t a good idea.”

  “You say that every time,” she whispered. She slid one hand up his arm and pulled him closer.

  He took a step, angled his body toward her, and leaned in. His free arm slipped around her back, sliding her down the desk until her body pressed into him. He leaned his head down, touching his forehead to hers. His breath warmed her lips. His whiskey gold eyes, inches away, stared into hers. “That’s because every time it’s a bad idea.”

  “And why is that?” She curled her hand around the top of his arm where the thick muscle rounded up into shoulder. His shoulders were her favorite feature.

  He shook his head, a small movement, before he pressed his lips to hers. Like every time before, electricity arced between them, fed by their control of the Dust. With every small fluttery kiss across her lower lip, it was pressure and electricity and release. He exhaled hard against her skin, and she caught her own breath. Jackson’s kisses were like nothing she’d ever experienced with the normal boys of Azcon. These kisses were filled with electric heat and longing as the Dust surged inside of her. She’d only felt that swirling, gathering pressure from the Dust with one person before….

  She pushed away the intrusive thought. Rejecting the memory of Reyes, she leaned into Jackson’s kiss.

  He lifted his hand from her back to stroke her hair back from her face. His eyes were dizzy. “Ah, Dust, Lena, you have no idea how much I wish you could be mine.”

  She curved her lips up under his. “I can be.”

  He tightened his hand around the side of her head, gentle pressure, and his lips moved on hers. The soft kiss disappeared.

  She’d waited for this hard, electric kiss, the one that took her breath away. Heat curled within her, pouring down from their joined mouths and pooling deep inside
like the thick maple syrup she loved so much. She exhaled softly through her nose, and her breath fanned back to her from his cheek.

  As if the movement of air across his skin was a signal, Jackson moved his lips on hers, parting them both. He darted his tongue out to taste her.

  She moved with him, matching his slow pace. Their lips spread a little more as he turned into the kiss, one hand sliding across to the back of her neck, and the tips of their tongues touched.

  Power zinged through her. She felt his body jolt as the wave rolled through him as well. Without thinking, almost without any awareness of it at all, she reached out to him the way she did when she healed. He became Dust swirling, blood surging, heartbeat increasing heat. She could feel his answer as he did the same. Dust moved low within her, curling and gathering in her belly and back.

  He tugged his hand free from where she’d captured it and slid it around to her back, pulling her closer. He pressed his hand to her lower back, and her Dust darted to him in a cloud of energy, then flashed out, spreading rapidly through her to flare and pop everywhere they were in contact, at groin, and chest, and mouth. She shuddered again.

  It was delicious. It was dangerous. She wanted this more than she’d wanted anything. But even as she leaned into the kiss, he pulled his mouth from hers, leaning back to put space between them.

  “Lena,” he said, his voice rough, “if we keep doing this, we won’t stop.”

  Her head nodded, tiny movements signaling her agreement. “Okay,” she said aloud, dazed. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she leaned in again, wrapping her legs around him so he couldn’t keep pulling away.

  “We can’t. Someone’s going to walk in.”

  “So go close the door.” She blinked at his expression. “What? Are you scared of being caught with me?”

  He looked away and gave a pained laugh before nodding several times. “Absolutely.”

  She frowned. He was serious. “I’m trying to imagine sober, sensible Jackson Lee scared of anyone.”

  “Huh. Doesn’t take much trying. I’m scared of you.”

  “I’m scary?”

  “You are terrifying.”

  “Really?” She leaned in, grinning wide, determined to cajole him into going and closing the damn door. She nipped at his lip as she purred, “How so?”

  “Hmmm,” a familiar husky voice interjected from the other end of the room, “I don’t think there’s enough time left in the morning for Jackson to complete that list.”

  Jackson leaped back as if she’d scalded him. He didn’t turn, and his hands had come up to frame his forehead.

  She sat back. Reyes stood in the doorway, long and lean, with his hands in his pockets and his chin down.

  She hadn’t seen him in more than six weeks. She wasn’t prepared for the jolt as her Dust recognized him. Already excited by what she’d been doing with Jackson, the Dust raged through her, battering her inside. She swallowed and sent angry demands that it stop.

  I don’t even like that man!

  The Dust ignored the lie. Lena clenched her teeth and squeezed her legs together, tightening her back against the onslaught. She would not respond.

  “Reyes.” It was all the greeting he’d get. Her perfect maple syrup and make-out mood had soured. She could feel her face sliding into cold, unhappy lines. Damn her body anyway for responding to him more strongly than it had to Jackson. What the hell was that about?

  “Well,” he said, “if that isn’t the damnedest transformation ever.” His dark, displeased face turned to Jackson, who slowly moved to face the older agent. They remained on the younger man, steady and evaluating. “I thought Thomas spoke to you about this?”

  “Spoke about what?” She looked from Reyes to Jackson.

  “He did, sir. I apologize. Just—” Jackson shook his head. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Take care of what?”

  Jackson looked away, shaking his head.

  Reyes gave a strangled, disparaging laugh and shrugged. “Nothing, Lena.” He cocked his finger at them. “C’mon. We’re gonna be late. It’s my day off, and I don’t want to waste the whole day here.” He turned and stalked down the hall, his back stiff.

  Jackson started after Reyes then paused to wait for her. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes. As soon as she hopped down from the desk, Jackson followed Reyes out. She trailed along behind him. What had just happened?

  She wasn’t in any hurry to catch up. She didn’t know what was going on with Jackson, and she had no desire to engage Reyes any more than necessary. Lena had spent enough time examining her feelings to understand the source of her attraction, as well as her resentment. Reyes had been there. He had worked hard to keep her safe from the bad acts and intentions of the Council of Nine. When his plan had gone bad, he hadn’t given up or walked away, he’d remained at her side, witnessing it all, and waiting for the opportunity to free her. He had kept his word to her. And after he had, he’d had no way to know he was taking her to the one place guaranteed to awaken all of her childhood fears. Intellectually, she understood.

  But emotionally…every time she saw him, her teeth set and her shoulders tightened. She had trusted him. Doing so had cost her mother her life. As if that loss wasn’t enough, Reyes had brought her to the school her father had told her wasn’t safe, to the people he had insisted could never be trusted. Then he’d abandoned her. Mission accomplished. Outcome produced. He was done factoring that particular equation.

  And that equation included her. Whatever connection she felt? Whatever lame response her Dust tortured her with? It was one-sided.

  Jackson looked back over his shoulder. He flashed a sickly half-smile and indicated with a gesture that he was going to hurry up the long corridor to talk to Reyes. She waved her fingers at him, telling him to go.

  The two men walked together ahead of her, Reyes dangerous and controlled and Jackson eagerly matching his pace. The men slowed, and Reyes turned to Jackson, finally engaged in whatever he was saying. She hung back.

  She could see Reyes’s nature now in the easy smile he flashed at Jackson. His dark eyes still calculated and ran through scenarios. Was his mind ever still? A memory rose, of Reyes reciting poetry as he remembered his father to her. She pushed it away.

  Whatever he’d offered Jackson had lit up the younger man’s face with relief. Her heart squeezed. Hope shone out of his smile like a beacon. Other than those wide, heavy shoulders, Jackson’s smile was the best of many good features. It was broad and excited now as he nodded and shook Reyes’s hand in agreement.

  She returned her scrutiny to Reyes. He relinquished Jackson’s hand and turned to flash her a satisfied smile before moving away down the hallway, his confident stride graceful and smooth.

  Jackson stood in front of her, then, and she forced herself to look away from Reyes’s back. “What was that all about? Did you make up?”

  “Make up?” He gave her a puzzled look.

  “Yeah. You said you were worried about someone catching us together. Obviously from your reaction, you were worried about what Reyes would think.” She was pissed at Reyes. She shouldn’t take it out on Jackson.

  “I wasn’t—Lena, I was worried, period.”

  She glared at him. “Why?”

  “Why?” He stopped walking. “Really?”

  “Yes, why really,” Lena snapped. “You’re twenty-four years old. What do you care if someone catches you kissing some girl?”

  “I’m a Ward,” he said, as if that explained everything. It didn’t make it any clearer to her. “And you’re not just ‘some girl.’ I’ve been trying not to jeopardize my graduation.”

  “Why would kissing me jeopardize your becoming an agent?”

  He shook his head, closing his eyes. “Because of who you are. It just does.”

  Oh, so this is my fault? She couldn’t help a sullen mutter. “It didn’t look jeopardized to me.”

  “No. No, he understands. And he’s not going to say anything to the Councilor.” He
looked away down the hall. “I hope you understand. I know you don’t like him, but he’s being very generous. He’s even offered to mentor me when this assignment is over.”

  She couldn’t keep the hurt from flaring. “This assignment? Is that what his comment back there was about?”

  His face fell. “I—no. They don’t want—I don’t have permission to—”

  “Permission?” Her voice wasn’t sullen anymore, it was angry and loud. She didn’t care. “You’re waiting for permission to be intimate with your assignment?”

  He shook his head, lips compressed and face unhappy. “I didn’t mean you’re an assignment. I meant—”

  “I know what you meant.” She lifted her chin. “Where’s Erwin’s office? I’d like to get this over with. And the sooner you drop me off,” she added with brittle precision, “the sooner you can go report on the status of your assignment. Or maybe you were planning to ask for permission? If that’s the case, don’t bother.”

  He sighed, a whisper of sound that became her name.

  Lena turned away, rapid footsteps carrying her to the elevators. She’d rather sit in an office with a Guardian than listen to whatever Jackson had to say.

  Except for his luxurious lion’s mane of golden brown hair threaded with washed out grey, Guardian Erwin was a middling man—middle-aged, mid-height, and of middling weight. Even his eyes were washed out, a watery hazel mix somewhere between brown and green. When Jackson ushered her in, Erwin distractedly told her to have a seat at a cluttered table shoved into the far corner of his office. In the same breath, he ordered Jackson out. Lena didn’t turn back when he left.

  With a long-suffering sigh, Erwin settled himself into the seat beside her. “How much did your—” his voice took on a note of distaste “—zone educators teach you about the history of the Great Disaster?”

  She shook her head, willing herself to focus. She felt herself shrinking back into her chair and reversed course, straightening her spine. She refused to be cowed by any of them. “I didn’t go to school.”

  Erwin blinked at her. “So…what do you know, if anything, about the beginning of the Second Dark Age, which many call the Great Disaster?”