"For not knowing anything you sure seem to know a lot," I observed. "But if the cat's out of the bag and they're willing to reveal the extent of what they can do using the weather, why hide the fact that Jamie can tear that building to the ground with his bare hands?"
"A matter of proof. No one can prove this storm came from anywhere but good old mother nature. Were Jamie to tear the place down for all the world to see—and believe me, all the world would see it—they would be inclined to hunt Jamie down. I doubt they'd be content with simply locking him up. There are abilities that are acceptable and abilities that aren't."
“He could leave again. Disappear. They'd never find him," I said, a thought that filled me with cold hollowness.
"His life is here, Erin," my dad said gently. "His family is here. He doesn't want to run. His time in the Facility served its purpose. It gave him his control back. He wants to get on with his life now. And I would think you would too."
So Jamie was doing this for me. For his mom and Noah. For a chance at a life with all of us. So he wouldn't have to be a fugitive for nothing more than being who he was, what he was.
"Will it work? Will they leave him alone?" I suspected it would be enough to give the local authorities pause and rethink some of their positions where the species of breathers was concerned. The threat of a constant barrage of weather—flooding rains, high winds, the damage and devastation that could potentially disrupt the economy—might be enough to quell their enthusiasm.
"I think it'll be enough to keep them in check," he said, but he was clearly holding a vital piece of information back.
"What?" I asked, my skin still tingling in alarm. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Jamie's different. His blood work. His DNA. It's all different from what it was before his accident. Under a microscope, he's less human than he was before. I'm not a scientist, and I don't understand the significance of all of it, but they're extremely interested. Interested enough to want to keep him locked up indefinitely."
"You said they weren't doing any kinds of crazy experiments on him." My blood ran cold.
"They aren't, yet. They've had enough to work with using the basics of blood and tissue samples. He's developed some interesting traits and some show promise in research for treating disease and other things."
"Well, then we have to make sure this works," I said, almost panicked now. The thought of Jamie at the mercy of people who didn't care for him, didn't love him and see him as wholly human terrified me. "What if something happens? What if this silly plan doesn't work?"
"It'll work. And this small display of the kind of power they have at their disposal will be enough to keep this from turning into a witch hunt. The rhetoric has been strong by some of our public officials and military authorities. Measures are already being enacted for containment. This will discourage those same people from implementing others."
He ran his hand over his head as if to ease the stress caused by the scenario he’d described. Sighing, his fingers tapped across his keyboard. “Here.” He motioned me around his desk. "Jamie's fine. He's more than fine."
Jamie was on the screen of his monitor—a crystal clear, high-definition image. Clearer than looking at him through four inches of acrylic. I knew exactly which corner of his tank the camera feed was coming from. I’d kept my face averted from it enough over the last few days. Like Jamie’s was now. He almost looked like he was praying. Head lowered between his bent knees, eyes closed in total stillness. Waiting.
“You’ve been monitoring him from here all this time and you didn’t tell me?”
“No," he said. "You wouldn’t have left my office.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Looking at Jamie now, a sick feeling burrowed around in my stomach, taking root. This was what they’d turned Jamie into. A lab rat watched and monitored. I wanted to shut the feed down. Even though he was my husband, it still felt like an invasion of his privacy. Jamie would hate this. But to my shame, I found I couldn’t look away. After what felt like endless minutes, Jamie lifted his head, cocking it to one side as though he heard something. His back straightened and he unfolded from the floor.
My ears popped under a sudden gust of wind howling around the house. The lights flickered and so did Jamie's image on the screen. Jamie’s eyes strained on the camera as though he knew exactly who was on the other end of the feed watching. His image distorted with the low roll of thunder accented by another flash of lightning. The image on the computer screen flicked in and out of view, turned to snow, then flicked back on. Jamie’s eyes were still trained on the camera. He smiled and winked.
"Do you think it will work?" I asked, my heart kicking up in anticipation. I would finally see Jamie without a wall between us.
The lights flickered, and a second later the power went out, leaving us in the dark.
"We're about to find out."
* * *
The storm had cast everything in a gray film, making the world appear in black and white. Even the foliage seemed dull under the slate clouds as leaves and small branches scattered in the wind, littering the yard and pool. The storm seemed to be lessening though, the sky not as dark, the rain tapering from the solid sheet of fifteen minutes ago to a mere soaking.
What was taking so long? Why wasn't Jamie here yet? He would come here first, wouldn't he? He’d said he would come. Had he gone to see Noah and Lara first? It was possible. I knew they had to be as anxious as I was.
I’d just lit a candle on my nightstand, when awareness tickled its way across the back of my neck. The wind shifted and whistled through the window. I pulled the curtain aside and saw Jamie standing on the end of the dock. He was looking up at my window, and even from this distance, I felt the impact of his stare to my toes.
He was all living color in an otherwise gray world. Dark hair slick against his skull, the blueish stripe slashing across his face like an afterthought. Seeing him standing on the dock and realizing the barrier was gone stole my breath.
There was nothing left between us but a sprint down the stairs. I don’t think my bare feet touched half of them. I burst through the back door. The handle ripped from my grip in the forty-mile-an-hour wind. My dad called after me, but his voice was lost in the wild howl as soon as I stepped outside.
Jamie made standing up look easy. The wind blasted me, causing me to stagger sideways. I fought for purchase before finding my balance. His strides were long and forceful, and by the time we stopped with only a foot between us, I was soaked through to the skin. Jamie stared down at me, fiercely searching my face. He was impervious to the wind. One lone strand of hair was plastered across his face, catching on his cheekbone and the space between his parted lips.
Rain pelted my face, camouflage to the few tears that had managed to escape. Finally, I drew enough courage to reach up and run my fingers the length of his cheek and over his jaw, taking that piece of hair, so soft between my fingers, and smoothing it behind his ear.
He started at the small contact, eyes wide and hungry. A moan escaped his throat as my name passed over his lips. He reached for me at the same moment I hurled myself at him. He caught me and gathered me close to his chest, lifting my feet off the ground. I closed my eyes and breathed him in, feeling the thud of his heart at my ear. He wrapped around me, shielding me from the brunt of the wind and the debris it carried.
I hadn’t felt this safe, this protected, since the last time he’d held me.
“Jamie.” His body was rock-hard and he felt so good. I nestled closer, clinging so tightly my fingers went numb. And then I was sobbing and he held on to me and I never wanted him to let me go.
“Erin.” His voice coasted over me, his lips close to my ear, his hand stroking down the back of my hair. He drew his head back and I thought he was going to kiss me. I hoped he was going to kiss me. His lips skimmed my damp cheek as a laugh rumbled from his chest, mimicking the roll of thunder in the distance. Lightning flashed in an eerie strobe effect, raising the hairs on my arms.
>
“You’re shivering.” His hands gripped my arms, his webs like suction cups tight on my skin, warm and comforting. “You think Marshall will shoot me again?”
Despite the storm raging and Jamie’s overwhelming presence, I was well aware of my dad watching from the back door. It was the only thing keeping me from attacking his mouth with mine. I was desperate for some privacy without cameras and watching eyes waiting for Jamie to turn into a monster.
Jamie scooped me up, cradling my legs and back in his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head against his chest and released the breath it felt like I’d been holding for two years.
My dad was waiting with towels in an engulfing silence after being out in the storm. Jamie set me on my feet, keeping one arm around me.
“You’re out.” My dad threw a towel at Jamie’s chest, then handed one to me. I made quick work of drying off.
“I’m not going back, sir.” Jamie held my dad’s gaze, ignoring the pool of water forming under his feet.
I didn’t remember ever having to look up so far to see into Jamie’s face. I was still getting used to the new slant of his cheeks, the deep rumble of his voice, the sheer overwhelming size of him.
“I hope it’s that easy.” My dad held out his hand and when Jamie took it, he pulled him into an embrace. I felt a wave of tenderness for my dad, the way he'd always treated Jamie like a son, appreciating what seeing Jamie face-to-face meant to him. A man he'd thought he'd lost. A man he'd believed he'd sent to his death.
“It is,” Jamie said, thumping my dad on the back twice. When he drew away, he held my dad's gaze, warm with meaning. "Thank you. For the school and not shooting me. With bullets anyway."
"I'm just glad you're not dead," my dad said, a wealth of emotion in the words. "But when all those favors get called in, I'll be calling you."
"I wondered for a while if I was dead," Jamie said, taking my hand, his eyes unbearably soft. I'd stemmed my tears from earlier but they threatened again. I was too happy to cry. I'd cried enough over Jamie.
“So what are you going to do?” my dad asked Jamie, breaking the spell of intimacy Jamie's warm gaze created.
Jamie finished toweling off, and I found I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him for the briefest moment.
“Well, that depends on your daughter,” he said, his half-smile softening the fierceness of his features.
“Me?” I questioned, circling his thick wrist with my fingers.
“Will you cut my hair?”
* * *
I’d forgotten how it felt to be around Jamie. The way everything dwarfed in his presence. My bathroom felt cramped with him in it. One of his old t-shirts I had tucked away in my closet stretched across his chest like a second skin, the sleeves squeezing his biceps so tightly I worried it might cut off the blood flow. He'd wanted a shirt on, and I'd pulled the shirt out of its hiding place, eager to scent it with Jamie again. The towel draped across his shoulders kept slipping to the floor along with the mounds of hair piling up under the stool.
Several candles lit my bathroom, the flames dancing in Jamie’s eyes as they followed my every movement. Heat rose on my cheeks, and a smile teased my lips every time our eyes met. When I stepped in front of him, one of his hands snaked out from under the towel, curving around my hip, and I was ever aware of the warmth of his hand and the way the webs molded to my body. The intensity of his stare unnerved me.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask them to do this at the Facility.” He’d never had the patience for long hair.
“They offered,” he said and like so many other things, his voice would take a while to adjust to. Without the barrier between us, it was even deeper, and the timbre of it rolled over my skin in a rush of sensation. My whole body tingled.
“I wasn’t letting one of them touch my hair,” he said, defensiveness creeping into his tone. Even though he’d always kept his hair short, he’d been very particular about whom he let cut it—his mom and me.
His grip tightened on my hip, and my hands fell to his shoulders, the scissors forgotten. His body under my hands and his eyes on my face, caused my thoughts to scatter.
“Jamie, I missed you so much.” The words seemed so inadequate. His absence had left a hole in my life, my very soul. My head fell forward and I wanted so badly to kiss him, but something held me back because something clearly held him back. I knew he wanted to, his body was tense and thrumming under my hands. I had no idea what he was waiting for.
“Would you please hurry,” he breathed harshly. Dark spikes of hair stuck up all over his head, appearing almost blue under the candlelight. It emphasized the brushstroke of blue-green bisecting his face and he looked more fierce than ever.
"Do you mind it?" he asked as though he could read my mind, the eyes behind the stripe of color niggling with doubt.
I walked around him and tossed the scissors on the counter beside the sink, cupping his jaw in my hands. Leaning over, I trailed the path of the dyed skin with my lips. Over his eyebrow and his cheekbone, skimming the end of his nose, stopping only before my lips touched his mouth. His hands gripped my waist and the pulse in the side of his neck jumped.
"No. I don't mind at all." I stepped away and picked up the clippers and went to stand behind him again. “Are you sure?” My eyes met his in the mirror. I’d made such a mess of it, even if he wanted to keep his hair long, it was too late.
“Do it,” he said with a spark of impatience. He watched my reflection while I ran the clippers through his hair, slowly revealing the familiar shape of his head, careful of the sensitive gills behind his ears.
“Oh no,” I said, hearing the telltale sign of the battery running down. With the power out there was no way to recharge it. I laughed as I made quick work of smoothing it out as best I could. I covered my mouth, hiding a giggle as the battery finally died. He looked like a porcupine. I ran my fingers through the uneven spikes. It was surprisingly soft. Everything about him was a surprise. I lifted my gaze to the mirror. It was really him. The Jamie I remembered.
“I’m sorry. That’s the best I could do,” I said, my blood flowing thick and hot.
“It’s perfect.”
He growled when he leaped off the stool. The towel fell on the floor and he turned around and grabbed me, sweeping me off my feet. He carried me from the bathroom and we fell on the bed. He buried his face in my neck, breathing deep in a contented sigh of pure pleasure.
“I used to dream about your smell.” His nose skimmed my neck then stalled behind my ear. “When I thought I was about to forget you, I could always remember your smell and it would bring me back. You smell like fresh air and sunshine.”
He burrowed deeper and I wanted to hold him forever, but most of all I wanted him to kiss me. My hands cupped his jaw and I brought his face over mine.
“Kiss me, Jamie.” And that fast I was swept away by the feel of his lips, the delicious warmth of his tongue. He was overpowering in his urgency, demanding in the thrust of his tongue, the pressure of his weight between my legs. I welcomed it, pulling him closer. I had no control where Jamie was concerned. Before I knew it, my shirt was off. His was harder to discard as tight as it was. I was laughing by the time I peeled it over his head. His skin under my hands burned. My fingers traced the familiar indents of muscle, pausing to explore the marks left by the water, the strangely textured skin a beautiful shade of aquamarine. He held himself rigid as I kept up my ministrations, running my hands and fingers over each one, learning the feel of him. I lifted my head and placed my mouth to the one on the left side of his chest, the one that covered his heart.
“No one’s touched me in two years,” he said, dipping his head so he could see my hands on him. “That feels so good. You feel good.”
I lifted my face to his neck, and his whole body trembled from one touch of my mouth. He held himself over me, sliding one leg between mine. He was a tsunami, rushing over me in a surge of power. I felt the force of him lift me up and threaten to
sweep me away. Some part of me rebelled against it. I wanted to squash the rebellious voice down and tell her she had no place here. This was what I wanted. I wanted Jamie. But she remained insistent, her voice overpowering even what my body craved. I’d overcome too much to let him come sweeping back in my life and wrest control from me. The me I’d become couldn’t let him.
“Jamie…” My hands pushed against his chest and still he came, mouth and hands and hips demanding. “Jamie,” I said more forcefully, unable to believe I was pushing him away when I’d missed him so much. He'd warned me. He’d tried to prepare me, and here I was pushing him away.
He stilled and poised himself over me with one arm while the other lifted to my face.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” The webs between his fingers were like the petals of a flower when they touched my cheek, delicate and spongy soft.
“You’re going too fast.”
“What are you talking about? We’re married.” A tremor snaked down his back. Heat flared in his eyes.
“I know,” I breathed. “But Jamie, you’ve been gone for almost two years. I thought you were dead.” His muscles bunched under my hands. I swallowed, determined he would hear me. “Things have changed. I don’t know if I can do this yet. If I should do this yet.”
Physical intimacy had always been so easy for us, always felt so right. And oddly, though it was right, something felt wrong about it.
“What are you saying?” He was off me with one swift push, my body instantly cold now that I was deprived of his warmth. I scooted back on the bed, pulling my knees into my chest. His eyes hardened. Wind gusted around the house, a haunting sound that sent a shiver of energy around my room. The candles flared and nearly gutted in response. Something inside me responded and I reined it in. I wouldn’t be overcome by emotions this time. I couldn’t afford to do that again. The risk to my lopsided heart was too great.
Watermark (The Emerald Series Book 3) Page 16
