Wet (Elemental 1)

by Rose Wulf

  Neither spoke as he did his best to put the unnatural storm behind them.

  The storm was somewhere behind them, out of sight, when Blake pulled up to Brooke’s apartment and cut the engine. They hadn’t said a word since they’d hit the interstate; for the most part, Brooke’s eyes had been glued to the side mirror. But she was watching as Blake tugged the key from the ignition with shaky hands.

  He was still too pale, and a fine line of sweat had broken out along his brow. He was taking too-deep breaths, and he clenched his fist around his keys right about when Brooke realized his hand had been shaking.

  “Blake…” Brooke began, not entirely sure how to say what she wanted. Her panic was behind her now, and she felt incredibly guilty. She might have been afraid of bad storms, but lightning was literally lethal to him. And still she’d let him take charge of the situation. But even more than the embarrassment and guilt, she was worried.

  Blake swallowed and said quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about the danger. Are you all right?”

  Brooke frowned at him when he finally met her gaze. He looked exhausted. “I’m fine,” she replied pointedly. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

  Shaking his head stubbornly, Blake said, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

  Knowing full well he was deliberately trying to down-play how he was feeling, Brooke scowled at him and reached over, snatching his keys from his loosened grip.

  “What are you—” Blake started to ask, his eyes widening and his fingers twitching in an effort to reclaim his keys.

  Brooke cut him off as she slipped his keys into her pocket. “Making sure you stay put. But feel free to switch seats.” Holding his confused gaze a moment longer, Brooke turned and angled out of the car. She deliberately did not look back as she jogged up to her front door and extracted her own keys from her pocket.

  ****

  Blake watched as Brooke disappeared inside her apartment, feeling almost as confused as he was drained. He released a heavy sigh and slumped back against his seat. He wanted to be angry with himself for putting Brooke in danger like that, but at the moment, he couldn’t work up the energy. By the time he’d made it into the car, the air around them had been ripe with electrical discharge, and that last lightning bolt had been only barely far enough away to keep him on his feet.

  But now, as the adrenaline wore off, he was paying the price for his thoughtlessness. I could’ve gotten us both killed. With a brief surge of bitter humor, he decided this was probably not what Dean had meant when he’d advised Blake to make sure it was a date neither of them would ever forget.

  Fortunately, for whatever reason, the storm hadn’t followed them past the interstate. And a part of Blake knew he should wonder about that, but he didn’t have the energy. So he filed it away for future reference and refocused his attention on his surroundings.

  It wasn’t until Brooke was once again in sight—locking up her apartment, with a duffel bag on the ground at her feet—that Blake remembered she had told him to move. Dragging in a deep breath, Blake pushed open the driver’s side door and stepped out. He was glad, if not a little surprised, that he didn’t seem to need to lean on his door for support.

  “Can you walk?” Brooke was already standing in front of him, with the duffel bag now slung over a shoulder. There was genuine concern in her eyes that touched him and made him feel even more like an idiot at the same time.

  Still, he did his best to smile. “Yeah. What’s with the duffel bag?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way.” Brooke gestured for him to move to the other side.

  Blake sighed and did as she instructed. He noticed, as he walked at a slower-than-usual pace, that Brooke took the time to shove her duffel into his backseat. Then she straightened and watched him until he had opened the passenger door.

  They both ducked inside, and as Brooke pulled the door shut, she dug his keys out of her pocket.

  “Where are we going?” He suspected he already knew the answer as he watched her stick the key in the ignition.

  “I’m taking you home,” Brooke declared, starting the car. “Whether you exhausted yourself using your powers, or because of all that lightning, I don’t know. But you need to rest and regain your strength.”

  Blake allowed himself to lean back in his seat as Brooke backed out of the driveway. Eyes falling shut, he said, “It was the electricity. That little bit of power I used would never drain me like this.”

  “Little bit of power?” Brooke repeated incredulously. “You summoned, like, a ten-foot tidal wave back there, and then crashed the whole thing onto that fire!”

  “It was a little more than eight feet,” Blake clarified, his lips twitching even though his tone lacked the humor he’d wanted. “And that wasn’t enough to slow me down.” He wondered what she thought about that—if it was impressive, frightening, or something else altogether—but he didn’t have the strength to even study her reaction.

  Blake allowed the silence that followed to rest between them, though he noted with a small amount of reassurance that this silence didn’t feel at all awkward. She might be worried about him, he realized, but she didn’t seem to be upset or frightened. As far as he was concerned, in that moment, that was all that mattered. Well, that and the fact that they were both still breathing.

  The next thing he knew, Brooke was gently nudging his right shoulder. Blake wanted to curse himself when he realized he’d fallen asleep for the last couple minutes of the drive. Blinking his eyes open, he mumbled, “Sorry.” It came out as more of a slur than a word.

  Brooke smiled faintly. “It’s okay. Come on, let me help you get inside.”

  Blake did what he could to walk on his own, but for the first few steps, he had no choice than to lean on her. Fortunately, he was able to stand properly by the time they’d stepped out of the garage.

  “What can I do to help? Do you just need sleep? Should I make you something to eat?”

  Blake shook his head. “Food and sleep will help, but what I really need is rehydration.”

  Brooke stared at him for a beat, processing his words, before an idea obviously occurred to her. “Do you have a bathtub? Or a hot tub, or something that you can soak in?”

  “Yeah,” Blake replied. “Both, actually.” And he was impressed at how quickly she’d grasped his situation. He paused as another thought struck. Sure, he definitely needed a good soak, but that didn’t have to mean the date was over. You nearly got electrocuted and burnt to death, he reminded himself. That date’s pretty much over.

  “Which would be better for you?” Brooke asked, interrupting his self-berating.

  Blake re-focused. “They’d be about the same.”

  Brooke nodded, and when her gaze re-focused and she looked at him, she smiled and asked, “Why don’t we hit the hot tub, then? I could use a little relaxation, too.”

  “Brooke.” Blake looked away from her smiling face as the guilt returned in force. His eyes narrowed and he found himself almost glaring at the floor of his hallway. “I’m sorry. I never meant for that to happen, and I … I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.”

  Brooke reached out and used her fingertips to drag his face toward hers once more, staying silent until their eyes met. “What happened wasn’t your fault. Of course you didn’t mean for us to be attacked. And because it seems I need to remind you, I already knew about your enemies when I agreed to this date.”

  Blake swallowed heavily, letting her words settle in his heart. She was right. He knew she’d already known. At length, he said, “Did you bring a swimsuit?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Blake let his eyes fall shut for a long minute as he sank until he was nearly ear-deep in water, his head tilted back to rest against the rim of the hot tub.

  This was exactly what he needed. A good soak in good company, no lightning or electrical fires or even daily responsibilities hanging over his head. An hour or ten of this and he’d be right as rain—a saying he personally believed had b
een coined by some long-lost water elemental.

  When Blake felt he could hold a conversation without slurring or running too short on breath, he pulled himself into a regular sitting position and looked over at Brooke. His lips twitched again when he saw she had relaxed so much that she was almost floating. “Don’t fall asleep. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who can breathe underwater.”

  “You must be feeling better,” Brooke quipped as she lifted her head and resettled herself in her seat. “Otherwise, I’m sure the delivery of that would have been all wrong.”

  Blake chuckled despite the truth of her words. “I am feeling better.”

  “I can tell,” Brooke replied, her humor fading as she raked her eyes over his face.

  “So, tell me,” Blake began, hoping to keep his tone casual as he shifted and lifted one arm to rest on the edge of the tub, his fingers still dipped in the warm water. “What’s with the duffel bag?”

  Brooke’s face flushed adorably, and she looked away. “Well,” she said, stalling. “I was worried about you.” She finally met his gaze again. “I didn’t really think you should be alone, but I thought you’d be more comfortable at home, so I decided I’d just stay here. With you.”

  Blake grinned. “You were going to stay the night to keep an eye on me?”

  She nodded silently.

  His grin slipped away as his tone became quietly serious. “Yet you said I shouldn’t be saying thank you.”

  “If you think about it, it was kind of rude of me to invite myself like that. I probably should have just called your family and had one of them pick you up at my apartment.” She paused, took a deep breath, and went on. “And you shouldn’t thank me. You saved my life, not the other way around. You even risked yours to do it. And for the record, I’m really sorry about that.”

  Blake frowned at the underlying guilt he heard in her words. He lifted the arm that was still mostly submerged, and the water in the tub swirled around her.

  Brooke’s eyes widened when she realized that the water was slowly pulling her away from the side she’d been leaning against. Gently, the water carried her over to Blake, depositing her at his side before fading back into stillness. By the time the swirling had settled down, Blake’s arm had returned to the water and curved around her, holding her up against his side.

  “I don’t want you to apologize for anything that happened tonight,” Blake said firmly, though his tone was quiet and gentle. “I might not have caused this ridiculous feud, but it was still my fault your life was in danger tonight. It was the least I could do.”

  She wanted to argue with him. He could see it in her eyes. She didn’t want him to claim sole ownership of the guilt. But instead Brooke let herself relax against him, her head landing on his shoulder.

  After a moment, Brooke said, “I would never want you—or anyone, for that matter—dying to protect me. So if you want to help me, okay, but don’t you dare die for me, got it?”

  Blake’s lips curved up again ever so slightly, and his arm tightened around her. “Got it.” He leaned down to brush his lips against her hair. He leaned down a bit more then and pressed his lips solidly to the crown of her head.

  Brooke sighed. One of her hands came up, her fingertips dancing along his exposed chest. “What time is it?”

  With his free hand, he reached over and lifted his watch, which he’d set down on the edge of the hot tub. He frowned at the read-out for a moment, wishing he could believe that it was broken. If time flies when you’re having fun, then it must move backwards when you’re running for your life. Aloud, he said, “It’s just after seven.”

  “Seriously?” Brooke asked, lifting her head to look at him. Her hand stilled over his chest as their eyes met. “That has to be impossible.”

  Blake shook his head, setting his watch back down. “Apparently not.” He held her gaze for a long moment, and his skin tingled beneath her hand. He knew he was biased, but she had never looked more beautiful to him than in that moment. Her hair was piled in a messy bun high on her head, so she could keep it dry, and she was wearing the same maroon bikini that she’d worn at the beach on Friday.

  Her hand slid up his chest, slowly curving around the nape of his neck.

  She leaned up as he leaned down. Their eyes closed, and their lips met. Brooke’s fingernails scraped the base of his neck before her hand plunged into his thick hair, and her other arm lifted, sliding up along his body until she had the proper angle to wrap it around his shoulders. His arm tightened around her waist as his tongue slipped past her lips.

  They shifted, and Blake wrapped an arm around her back to pull her flush against him. The material of her bikini left most of her skin exposed, and his hands found vast expanses of her smooth, tempting flesh. With every slide of her tongue against his, Blake found himself feeling less and less tired.

  “Blake!” a muffled male voice shouted.

  The couple tore apart, startled, and turned wide eyes to the sliding glass door that led to his back porch. They looked back at each other, her hands on his shoulders and his hands on her hips, and she was obviously wondering the same thing. Who had called him?

  The door was thrown open with surprising force, and before either could recover, Dean had stepped through. His eyes settled on them, and for a moment, all three were silent and still. Then Dean released a heavy breath, his posture relaxed, and he shook his head, muttering, “I oughta kill you, dammit!”

  Too confused to be embarrassed by the situation, the couple pulled apart and Blake shifted to rest one arm on the edge of the hot tub as he raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

  Dean narrowed his eyes in a frustrated glare and threw his arms wide as he exclaimed, “What do you mean ‘what’s going on’? We’ve been looking for you everywhere, you idiot!”

  “Why?” Blake asked, fearing that he and Brooke had not been the only victims of the night. “Is someone hurt?”

  Dragging in a deep breath, Dean clenched his fists and closed his eyes tightly. “You tell me,” he finally demanded. When he opened his eyes again he held his brother’s gaze solidly. “The three of us went down to the beach looking for you, ‘cause we figured you’d have gone there on your date, but of course you weren’t there. And you weren’t answering your cell.”

  Blake shook his head, realization slowly dawning. “I’m sorry. I left my cell in my room and I didn’t think to call. We’re fine.”

  Dean lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. “Dad heard a weather report on the radio that said some freak lightning storm had hit the beach. We all knew you would probably end up there, so of course he called to warn you, but you didn’t answer. So he called Logan, who called me and Nate.”

  The guilt returning, though for an entirely different reason, Blake cringed. “Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d have heard. We were at the beach when the storm hit. By the time you heard about it, we must have already been back here.”

  Some of the frustration left Dean’s face and his arm dropped to his side. Gaze flicking between them, he asked, “You’re sure you’re okay? Why’re you soaking?”

  “There were a few too many lightning strikes,” Blake admitted. “But once we got past the beach we were fine. The storm, or whoever was controlling it, didn’t try to chase us.”

  Dean nodded, accepting his answer. “Good. Although I’m still inclined to beat the crap out of you. You should have called someone.”

  Blake looked away guiltily. “I will next time.” His eyes widened, and he looked back to his brother, asking, “Where’re Logan and Nate?” If they were still at the beach, they could be hurt. Or worse.

  “Nate opted to stay at the beach, just in case,” Dean replied as he dug his hand into his coat pocket. “Logan and I split up. He went to check her apartment in case you’d gone there.” He pulled his phone out, flipped it open, and hit a couple of buttons before putting it to his ear. Blake’s stomach clenched. He hoped Dean was calling Nate first. And he hoped N
ate would answer.

  Brooke looked back at Blake and whispered, “Maybe I really should have called someone for you.”

  “Don’t feel bad. I didn’t even call after you brought it up.” He was such a moron. He should have called.

  They fell silent as Dean began talking into the phone, their attention returning to him.

  “It’s me,” Dean said. A moment later, he added, “Yeah, they’re both here, and they’re okay. But you should call Nate and get him the hell away from the beach, in case whoever’s behind all this crap is still hanging around.” After another pause, he told Logan (who Blake assumed he was talking to) that Blake had promised to give them the details the next day, and then he hung up.

  Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Dean said, “I’d yell at you some more, but Mom and Angie will probably do that for me tomorrow.”

  Blake cringed and inclined his head. “I am sorry, Dean.” And Dean was right. He was going to get a royal chewing-out, and he had it coming.

  Dean sighed. “I know.” The air was heavy with guilt and easing frustration for a long moment, and then Dean’s lips twitched as his eyes flicked between them again. “Well, since you’re both all right, I’ll just let myself out. Carry on.” His grin was undeniable as he turned without another word and stepped back into the house, pulling the sliding door shut behind him.

  “Try to ignore him,” Blake grumbled, his voice choked in embarrassment, as he stared at a spot on his porch near where Dean had been standing. He was searching for something to say to push past the embarrassment when a familiar lurching in his stomach reminded him of something else. Lifting his eyes back to Brooke, though she was still staring at the edge of the hot tub, he asked, “Hey, are you hungry? We never had dinner.”

  Brooke’s eyes widened and lifted to his. A moment later, a smile curved her lips and she nodded. “Actually, yes. I’m starving.”

  With a nod, Blake moved and pushed to his feet. He still wasn’t at full strength, but a good meal would go a long way towards changing that.